Dance with the Devil
by dnachemlia
Summary: Sequel to Bad Moon Rising, for the Hope in the Darkness Challenge. Tim and Wade pursue a possible cure for Tim's condition, while Gibbs and the rest of the team try to cope with Tim's absence. Can Gibbs prevent them from learning the truth?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Dance with the Devil

Sequel to _Bad Moon Rising_, final part of the Truth series, for the Hope in the Darkness Challenge

Genre: Supernatural/Horror

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, language, disturbing imagery

Characters: Tim, Gibbs and the rest of the team, previously used OC Wade and some new OCs

Summary: Tim and Wade deal with and pursue a possible cure for Tim's condition, while Gibbs and the rest of the team try to cope with Tim's absence. Can Gibbs prevent them from learning the truth? Starts about a week after the end of the previous story.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything except my OCs.

* * *

_**Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?**_

The Joker_**, **__Batman_

Chapter 1

Gibbs placed the well worn carving tool on his workbench and turned the small wooden object over in his hands, examining his handiwork. The miniature figurine that he had been working on for the past couple of hours was starting to take shape and he noted, not without some small satisfaction, that his skills were improving. His relative tranquility was brief, however, when he remembered why he had started the first of many such projects that now littered his workbench: It helped to keep his mind off of his current concern, his wayward agent and the circumstances that had led to his nearly two-week-long absence from the team. McGee only had two days left to his mandatory "vacation", and as the days had passed without word from his agent, Gibbs had grown even more concerned. He definitely owed the man a head-slap for breaking one of Gibbs' cardinal rules – never be unreachable – but at the same time the lead agent understood why. It had been hard enough for Gibbs to keep the rest of the team from trying to contact their friend, but if Tim had provided a working cell phone to track…Gibbs knew his job would have been that much more difficult. He just wished McGee had found some way of contacting him and letting him know the status of the "project" that started the whole thing.

Gibbs sighed. He had dealt with quite a bit himself over the past two weeks, although he had no delusions that his troubles had been greater than those of his agent. Most of the cases at Quantico had gone cold, much to the chagrin of Vance and the rest of Gibbs' team. The "dog" attack was written off as an isolated incident caused by the stray that had been – rather conveniently, Gibbs thought—dispatched and destroyed by a local. There had been some noise from the community leaders in the press about stricter animal control laws, but that had fizzled when no further incidents took place.

The attack on the Marine, however, had received greater attention, although the idea that they were looking for a homicidal _human_ maniac had prevailed, much to Gibbs' relief. His team was, at least outwardly, toeing that line and had conducted their investigation accordingly, although Gibbs' knew their suspicions tended towards a less conventional explanation and was thankful that they hadn't voiced them to anyone except themselves.

The death of Sergeant DuChamp had proved to be the easiest of the cases to close, with all evidence pointing to suicide. Gibbs had his own suspicions about DuChamp's death, and he hated that the man's good name had suffered because of the outcome of their investigation, but there really was nothing he could do, other than keep the details out of the press and shelter the man's family from those details as well.

Gibbs was pulled from his musings by the ringing of his cell phone. He checked the number and almost didn't answer when he saw it was unlisted, but something told him to take the call.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"_Boss?"_ The voice on the other end was soft and hesitant, but still recognizable, and Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief as one of his unspoken fears was eliminated.

"McGee? You alright?"

"_Boss, I…I need to talk to you."_

"I'm at home. Door's unlocked." Gibbs kept his voice calm, although the worry he had held for McGee over the past couple of weeks was starting to resurface. He could hear a muffled exchange between his agent and another person and then McGee's voice returned.

"_I can be there in about twenty minutes."_

"I'll be here. What's going on, Tim?"

"_I just…I'll tell you when I see you."_

"McGee…" He started to demand an explanation when he realized that the call had disconnected. He closed his phone with a snap and stared at it, wondering just what it was that Tim couldn't tell him except in person. Finally he rose from his position at his workbench and slowly headed up the stairs to start a pot of coffee. He strongly suspected he'd need it before the night was over.

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs heard a soft knocking at the front door. "Come in, it's open." He heard the slight creak of the hinges and then footsteps in the hall. Two pairs of footsteps. He stiffened and reached for his gun that he now kept loaded and in full view while at home instead of locked away. Soon a figure emerged from the hallway and stood in the entrance to the living room. Gibbs stared at the large man in front of him and relaxed slightly when he finally recognized the intruder.

"Wade. Where's Tim?"

"Right behind me." He looked at the gun in Gibbs' hand. "And those things still make me a bit jumpy. Tim, too. You mind putting that away?"

Gibbs stood and carried the gun over to its storage case, opened the slide and removed the magazine before placing in the box and shutting the lid.

"Happy?"

"Nope, but that's a different issue. Come on in, Kid."

Soon the person Gibbs had been waiting to see joined Wade in the doorway, and when Gibbs saw him he stared at the younger man in shock.

"McGee? What in the hell happened to you?"

McGee was pale, paler than Gibbs had ever seen him, with dark circles under his eyes and hollowed cheeks, both of which spoke of sleepless nights and missed meals. His left arm was in a sling and he looked as if he was still in pain from whatever injury had incapacitated him.

"It's been…a rough couple of weeks, Boss."

Gibbs sense of worry increased and he expressed it in one of the few ways that worked for him: anger.

"Damn it, Tim, you were supposed to be staying safe. There's no way in hell you'll convince Vance or the Agency shrink to sign off—"

"I'm not coming back to work, Gibbs. Not…not now."

McGee's barely audible statement shocked Gibbs into silence. McGee hesitated for a moment before clarifying his statement.

"I…that is, uh, we… are going to need some more time."

Finally Gibbs managed to form a question. "It's still out there?"

"No, Boss. The…thing that killed Danny Smythe and Sergeant Armstrong, it's dead. We caught up to it about a week ago and…it's taken care of."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It wasn't alone," said Wade, breaking the silence he had maintained since McGee had started to explain.

"So…what? The other one has your scent now? You have to dodge it, too?"

"Right now, it's dodging _us_, or at least me. But no, we're not being stalked at the moment."

"I'll repeat: what's the problem?"

"After we, uh…took care of the one that had been hunting us, we thought it was over. We didn't know…there was another waiting for us back…back at the truck." Tim kept his gaze focused on the floor. "It caught us by surprise, and it attacked…me."

Suddenly the significance of what McGee was saying hit Gibbs full force and his breath caught in his throat. He didn't want to ask the next question, didn't want Tim to confirm the fear that was twisting its way through his heart.

"McGee…did it…?"

Tim carefully pulled his arm from its sling and pulled up the sleeve of the oversized jacket he was wearing. Gibbs saw the bandage that covered Tim's forearm and he felt the bile rise in his throat. He struggled to remain calm but it felt as if his heart had plummeted inside his chest.

"I'm sorry, Boss…I couldn't…I couldn't do anything to prevent it." He raised his head and finally met Gibbs' gaze. The devastation in his eyes was so profound that Gibbs felt his own crushing sense of loss, and he turned the anger that surged forth in its wake towards the only other available target.

"_You were supposed to have his six!"_ He crossed the room in and instant and grabbed Wade's jacket in both fists. "You didn't do your _damn_ job and-!"

"Boss, it wasn't his fault." Tim tried to come between the two men, but Wade held up a hand to stop him before looking down at Gibbs.

"You want to take a swing at me? Go ahead, if it will make you feel better, but it ain't gonna do a damn thing for your agent. You want to tell me how much I screwed up? It's sure as hell not gonna be any worse than anything I've told _myself_ since it happened. But I _am_ gonna fix this, if it's the last damn thing I do."

Gibbs froze at Wade's last statement and took a second to parse what the man had said.

"_Fix_ it? You can…?" He let go of Wade's jacket and slowly took a step back.

"That's why we needed to talk to you, Boss," Tim replied, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two men. "We're going to need your help."

"How?"

"There's a way to treat the symptoms, and I have a line on a possible cure," Wade explained. "But neither one is quick or pleasant. We're going to need time…a lot more time, and Tim will have to be isolated. We need your help in presenting a cover story: a way to explain Tim's absence from NCIS and to keep everyone away."

"I kinda already did that."

"Yeah, but now I have something else set up. We just need you to sell it."

Gibbs turned to study the younger man who was watching his Boss with a nervous, yet hopeful expression in his eyes.

"How sure are you about this cure?" Gibbs hated to think that Tim, as well as himself, would be putting faith in something that could possibly only end in heartache.

"I have information from a very good source that the cure is genuine, and that it has worked before. I've seen enough snake-oil solutions on this job that I can recognize a real one when I see it."

Gibbs considered making a comment about Wade being able to see the threat that created the situation in the first place, but one more look at Tim stopped him. The poor kid didn't need anything else to upset him.

"What do you need me to do?"

He listened for the next few minutes as Wade explained what he had set up. Gibbs had to admit he was both surprised and slightly impressed with the cover that the older man had created in such a short amount of time.

"Somebody must have owed you one hell of a favor." Wade remained silent, but that was enough acknowledgment for Gibbs. "Alright. I'll do what you've asked."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs."

"I'm gonna need to talk to my agent alone for a minute."

McGee glanced at Wade, who nodded. "I'll wait for you in the truck, kid." He left and Gibbs turned to his agent.

"McGee…"

"I'm sorry, Boss. I wish…I wish there was some other way."

"You listen to me. You will get through this. Do you understand me? I…we are _not_ losing you again. You will beat this thing. That's an order." Gibbs managed a slight smile after he had delivered that last statement, and received one from McGee in return.

"Yes, Boss."

He put both hands on McGee's shoulders, then reached up and gave him a gentle head-slap. "And if you _ever_ do anything like this again…"

McGee nodded. "Got it, Boss."

"Good. Now go. Get some rest, Tim. You look like you need it."

"I'll try. Gibbs?"

"Yeah, Tim?"

"You guys…you guys are safe. No matter what happens…it was worth it." He gave Gibbs one last damp-eyed smile and left, gently shutting the door behind him.

Gibbs stood for a moment, going over everything in his mind before returning to the living room and sinking onto the sofa. He put his head in his hands and sighed, wondering how in the hell everything had gone so wrong, so fast.

TBC…

* * *

The deadline for this one is the end of the month, and then I'll get back to my WIPs.


	2. Chapter 2

Sequel to _Bad Moon Rising_, final part of the Truth series, for the Hope in the Darkness Challenge.

* * *

Chapter 2

Tony pressed the button for the elevator and waited, mindful of his precious cargo and unwilling to admit out loud how much he would enjoy delivering it to its intended recipient. He had carefully selected the treat, complete with just the right amount of candy sprinkles adorning its lovingly glazed surface. He hoped that McGee, upon receiving his gift would recognize the intent behind the gesture: not only an apology, but also proof that his partner had missed him.

The ride to the bullpen was uneventful and Tony had to chuckle to himself as he remembered what he was likely to see when he reached his destination. Abby would already be at Tim's desk, decorating it in her own unique style to welcome the man back from his absence. He could almost see McGee's reaction: surprise, feigned annoyance, and eventual acceptance that would signify that things were finally getting back to normal.

The past two weeks had been anything but normal, and not just because of their absent team member. The cases from Quantico had not only been disturbing, but had also proved to be far more frustrating than usual. There were no clear-cut suspects or forensic breakthroughs that the team had almost taken for granted. Tony couldn't help but think something else was going on, but Gibbs had given no indication that he believed anything was not above board, and the senior agent decided it was best to follow his lead.

The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out, his gaze immediately drawn to the desk that had been empty for the past two weeks. The expected decorations were absent, and instead he saw only Abby, her back to the approaching agent, simply standing still and silent.

"Abby? What's going on?" He approached the corner of the bullpen that held her attention and stumbled to a halt, momentarily shocked into silence by what he was seeing. McGee's desk and work area were clear of all of the man's belongings.

"What in the…?"

Finally Abby turned to face him, shock and fear evident in her tear-filled eyes, quickly replaced by anger as she addressed him.

"Did you know? Did you know about this?"

"Of course not! What _is_ this? Where's McGee's stuff?"

"I don't—"

"What is going on?"

The both turned to find Ziva walking towards McGee's desk, and she too stopped when she caught sight of the bare walls and desk top.

"He…he is not leaving, is he? He is coming back…yes?"

Before Tony could answer he noticed movement on the catwalk above and turned to see the director emerge from his office area, followed by Ducky, Gibbs, and finally…

"_McGee?_" Tony could hardly believe the difference in his partner from what he had been the last time Tony had seen him. McGee was deathly pale, hollow-eyed, and looked as if he was about to keel over. Tony automatically took a step towards him, to catch him if he did in fact succumb to gravity as expected. Gibbs caught his eye and shook his head before placing a steadying hand against McGee's back as he descended the stairs to the bullpen.

"_Timmy!"_ When they reached the bottom of the steps Abby's paralysis broke. She rushed to greet him but was held back by both Ducky and Gibbs as McGee flinched and stepped back, his gaze still fixed on the floor.

"McGee…Tim, what's going on?" Tony tried to catch his attention but McGee remained still and silent.

"Gibbs?" Ziva was staring at McGee as she addressed their team leader. "What is wrong?"

"Agent McGee will be taking an extended leave of absence for medical reasons," Vance said as he addressed the group, his expression grave. "You are not to discuss this with anyone outside your team." He turned to Gibbs. "I will have those files on your desk as soon as possible. Agent McGee?" Tim finally raised his head and briefly met the director's gaze. "I wish you well and we all will be hoping for your speedy recovery."

"Thank you, Director," he replied softly and headed, a bit unsteadily, towards his desk. Tony quickly moved to block his path.

"Probie? What…what's wrong with you? Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?"

"You had enough things to worry about. I didn't think…I didn't think it would get this bad."

"_How_ bad?"

He just shook his head and continued on to his desk. Abby finally managed to pull away from Gibbs and tried to get to McGee again but to everyone's surprise he held her off with one raised and slightly shaking hand.

"Abbs, please. I…I can't."

"Tim…" She simply stared at him, strangely unsure of herself. "Why? Why didn't you come to me with this? I would have-."

"Because there was nothing you could have done, Abby. I'm sorry…"

"Is there anything we can do for you now, McGee?" asked Ziva, her voice unsteady as she studied him with worried eyes. McGee managed a weak smile and sadly shook his head. He opened his desk drawer and removed his weapon and badge before shutting the drawer and dropping the key on the desk. He carried the items over to Gibbs and handed them to the lead agent.

"You'll take care of these for me, Boss?"

Gibbs nodded before placing a hand on McGee's uninjured arm. After a moment of silent communication, McGee nodded in return and turned to the uncharacteristically quiet M.E.

"Thanks, Ducky. I'm sorry to drop this on you…"

"It's quite alright, lad. Just get better. We will all…we will all be praying for you, Timothy."

McGee nodded again and Tony noticed a slight quiver of the younger man's chin as he turned back to his team.

"I guess…I guess this is goodbye. Thank you, all of you, for…for everything. I'm sorry I have to leave like this, but…I hope you can understand." Before they could respond, he turned and headed for the elevator, only glancing back once as the doors opened and he disappeared inside.

The silence that followed McGee's departure was finally broken by Abby.

"Gibbs, what…?"

"Autopsy. Let's go." Gibbs and Ducky started towards the stairs, followed by Abby and, after a moment's hesitation, Ziva. Tony finally managed to move and as he started to join the group, he noticed he was still carrying the white bakery bag containing the confection he had purchased for McGee less than an hour ago. He silently walked over to his garbage can and dropped the bag inside before turning and heading for the stairs.

XXX

Tim moved as quickly as he could past security and through the front doors of the building that had practically been his second home for nearly eight years. He ignored the curious glances of the other employees as they passed in the opposite direction and focused on getting through the gates to the street beyond. He then turned and started walking towards the river as he waited for a familiar vehicle to come into view. Soon he saw the big black truck pull up to the curb and he headed towards it just as the front passenger door sung open. Without bothering to look at the driver, he climbed into the passenger's seat, shut the door, and fastened his seatbelt.

The truck pulled away from the curb as the driver guided it into the early morning traffic surrounding the Yard. Both occupants remained silent until the cluster of buildings bordering the Anacostia was out of sight.

"You OK?"

Tim ran a rough hand over his eyes and glanced at Wade.

"That was a lot harder than I thought it would be," he admitted softly.

"Worse than telling your parents?"

Tim nodded. "At least then it was over the phone, and I didn't have to see their faces when I lied to them…I didn't actually have to lie to most of my team, but…"

"You gave them a twisted version of the truth." Wade studied the younger man for a moment. "And your parents didn't have to see _you._ Made it easier to pass it off as 'sounds worse than it is'."

"Yeah…"

"So Gibbs was able to sell it?"

"His word, plus the documents you provided was enough to convince Ducky, and he convinced the director." He paused. "How _did_ you get those documents?"

"As your boss said, someone owed me one hell of a favor."

"I just hope it satisfies the rest of the team. They're—"

"—naturally suspicious. I gathered that. As long as they follow Gibbs', and the doctor's orders, you'll be fine."

"So what happens if we don't find the cure?"

"We will."

"You seem pretty sure. Why?"

"Because I have hope, Kid. That, and I've got the intel on my side."

"How long do you think this will take?"

Wade sighed. "That, I don't know." He turned to Tim. "You're in this for the long haul, Tim. Don't forget that."

"I won't. Gibbs wouldn't let me," he said with a faint smile, which prompted a smirk from the other man.

"Glad to hear it. Now, sit back and relax. We've got quite a drive ahead of us."

"You never said where we're going," Tim said as he leaned his head back against the seat and started to close his eyes.

Wade grinned. "To see an expert."

XXX

Once the group had gathered in Autopsy, they turned to Gibbs for an explanation, a task which he handed off to Ducky.

"Timothy is suffering from a rather rare blood disorder, one which is especially difficult to treat. However, there is a clinician who specializes in research and treatment of this and similar disorders, and he has agreed to accept Timothy into one of his studies. Unfortunately, the facility where he will receive treatment is on the other side of the country, and even if we were permitted to visit him during the study…"

"Wait, why aren't we allowed to visit him?"

"The treatment is a long and difficult process, Anthony, and due to the nature of his condition, it is best if Timothy were not exposed to too many outside visitors. In addition, after speaking with him about his relationships, the doctor believes that Timothy would be able to better focus on his own recovery if he remained isolated from outside influences."

"He will be more worried about us and will not concentrate on getting well as he needs to do."

"Precisely, Ziva."

"But that doesn't make sense! People who are sick need support. Timmy needs _us_! He needs to see how much we care about him." A defiant expression appeared on her face. "I don't care how far away this place is, I'm still going to visit him."

"No, you're not, Abbs,"

"But Gibbs-"

"No, Abbs, and that's an order."

"Where is this place, anyway?" Tony asked.

"As Timothy's medical proxy, I cannot reveal anymore information than he has allowed and, under the advice of his new doctor, he has not given me permission to tell you that. All I can tell you is that I have looked into this facility myself, and it is completely above board. I believe he will receive the best care possible." He fixed Abby with a stern gaze. "You will not try to find him, Abigail. Respect his wishes. He is doing what he thinks is best for all concerned, especially you."

"How rough will this treatment be on him, Ducky? I mean, he already looks…"

Ducky sighed. "It will certainly not be something he would wish you to witness."

"So what _can_ we do?"

"Keep him in your thoughts, and have some hope that his treatment will be successful. He will not let us down if he can avoid it. Trust him to make it through this and come back as soon as he is able." Ducky studied the group and received nods from Ziva, Tony, and finally, albeit reluctantly, from Abby.

"The doctor has promised to keep me updated on his progress, and I am permitted to share that information with you. As for now, there isn't much else we can do but wait."

"I wish…I wish we had known about this sooner. He wouldn't have had to gone through this alone."

"I'm afraid that hiding his pain is simply Timothy's nature, Abby. And I am sure he thought he was doing what was best." He glanced at Gibbs. "Now I think it's best if you return to your duties. It will help _you_ deal with this, if nothing else."

The two agents and the forensic scientist left, and once they were alone Ducky focused his attention on his friend.

"There's something you're not telling me, Jethro."

"What do you mean, Duck?"

"You've been far too accepting of this situation."

"Probably because there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

"And yet you feel responsible. Oh, don't look at me that way, Jethro, I know guilt when I see it. Somehow you believe that this is your fault, although I cannot begin to fathom why."

"My team, Duck. My responsibility, and somewhere I dropped the ball."

Ducky shook his head. "Despite your team's belief that you hold sway over life and death, you are only human, Jethro. You could not have foreseen this. None of us could."

"Wish I could believe that, Duck." Gibbs turned and left, leaving Ducky alone in the cold, sterile room. He sighed and walked over to his desk where he placed the folder he had been given, the contents of which had caused his heart to sink. Timothy was indeed in for a rough time. Ducky could only hope the stubbornness which had allowed the young man to survive Gibbs' team would continue to serve him, this time in what promised to be a real battle: a fight for his life.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tim awoke with a gasp, the remnants of his nightmare slowly fading as he sat up in his seat and groaned. His neck was stiff from the awkward position in which he had been sleeping and he reached up to massage his sore muscles as he tried to get his bearings. The steady familiar rumble of the engine calmed him somewhat and he turned to the man next to him.

"Where are we?" he asked and winced at the sound of his own voice.

"About ten miles from where we're headed: a little town called Winfield."

Tim glanced out the window at the passing scenery, which bore no signs of civilization. "Middle of nowhere again."

"Pretty much. This area was big on coal mining about a hundred years ago. Not much else has moved in to replace that industry when it folded. A few family farms are still in operation, but other than that…"

"Boondocks." Tim could almost hear Tony start to hum the tune the two of them associated with that phrase and felt a lump in his throat. Best not to think about the people he'd left behind. It wouldn't help matters in the least.

"One way of putting it."

"And your expert lives here?"

"Yup. Man knows more about Weres than anyone else alive, or so I've been told."

Tim nodded absently. He had learned a little bit about the creatures during the week he and Wade had been dodging their pursuer – mostly how to kill them – but not much since then. He had spent most of the week after the attack recovering from both his injuries and the shock of his new situation. In his haze of pain, he had only barely been aware of what was going on around him, and by the time he had recovered enough to tell Gibbs what had happened there hadn't been time to discuss anything other than his immediate future.

Soon the town came into view: a single main street lined with Victorian era homes in various states of repair, which soon gave way to two-story brick storefronts. As they approached the end of the business area, Wade pulled the truck over to the curb in front of the last building and killed the engine. Tim noticed that it was in better condition than the others, with freshly painted trim and spotless windows. The sign above the door identified the place as _Collins' Small Appliance and Engine Repair_.

The two men climbed out of the truck and approached the building. Tim noticed a few people on the street who turned in their direction, but their expressions only displayed faint interest or outright indifference towards the newcomers. Tim followed Wade into the shop and paused jut inside the door to stare at the interior in surprise. The room, although cramped was extremely clean and organized. The front counter was highly polished, and the shelves lining the walls contained a variety of appliances, each neat labeled and wrapped in plastic. The area next to the counter housed several lawnmowers and other yard-work machines, all sitting on tarps to protect the floor, and as meticulously clean and labeled as the appliances. The front counter contained perfectly aligned stacks of brochures and advertisements, as well as a pristine cup with a precisely fanned collection of pens. Even the bulletin board for flyers and other local notices was neat and orderly.

Wade stepped up to the counter and tapped the highly polished service bell, which gave a sharp _ding_, and waited. Soon a door in the far wall opened and a man stepped through. He walked up to the counter and silently gazed at Wade, obviously waiting for an explanation for the two men's presence.

"I'm Wade, and this is Tim. Buddy of mine named Carter who lives in Elkton said you can help us with a little problem." The man raised an eyebrow and waited for Wade to continue. "Carter says you know about a cure." Silently the man nodded and motioned for Wade and Tim to follow him. As they moved around the counter and headed towards the door from which the man had emerged, Tim noticed a stack of mail sitting on the desk, and the name on the top envelope caught his attention.

"Grey Collins?" he whispered to Wade as they passed through the door. Wade nodded. "Carter said he thinks they messed up his name on his birth certificate and was supposed to be Greg."

Tim decided that the mistake had been fate: the man's name certainly suited him. His hair and eyes were both an intermediate shade of that very color, and even the faded jeans, t-shirt, and cardigan he wore were washed out to the point where they had nearly the same hue. His skin, mostly smooth except for the crow's feet around his eyes, was pale and it looked as if he hadn't seen the sun in years. Tim had no idea of the man's true age, but those eyes had seemed ancient, witness to far too many things.

They passed through a small workshop, as orderly as the front of the store, and finally reached what appeared to be Grey's living room. Tim and Wade settled onto a stiff antique sofa while Grey sat in a high-backed chair across from them. Again, he simply raised an eyebrow and waited for Wade to speak. The older man paused for a moment to study their host before he started his story. Tim listened as Wade explained what had happened, starting with the attacks at Quantico and detailing everything from Tim's discovery to the attack, and what he had done for the younger man following that incident. Other than a slight rise of his eyebrows when Wade mentioned the pair of Weres, Grey showed no reaction to his tale. When Wade finished, Grey closed his eyes for several moments, nodded, and rose from his chair to retrieve a leather-bound book from one of his shelves. He handed the book to Wade and then disappeared through another door.

"Guess he's a man of few words," said Wade as he opened the book and started to read.

"Understatement," muttered Tim, and Wade grinned. Tim looked around the obsessively neat room. "I wonder if he's related to Lt. Commander Coleman."

"Who?"

"Just someone I know from work. JAG lawyer. Very organized."

Wade nodded absently as he continued to read the book Grey had given him, and Tim surveyed the room again. He noticed an old record player sitting on a table in the corner with a stack of records on the shelf below, and a well cared for manual typewriter on the desk in the opposite corner. The sight of it brought to mind his own writing area in his apartment, long neglected. That arrangement was now disassembled and packed away in a storage unit, along with the rest of his belongings, courtesy of a small but efficient moving company and another owed "favor" to Wade. Tim had sold his car to avoid having to store it as well, and the money from the sale had gone into an anonymous bank account for him to use if he needed it. Wade had informed him that his room and board would be taken care of, but Tim had wanted something to fall back on or at least be able to help out over the duration of his 'illness'.

After nearly twenty minutes, Grey returned carrying a steaming mug of fragrant liquid. He handed it to Tim.

"Drink."

Tim looked up at the man in surprise. His voice was soft and raspy, with the barest trace of an accent.

"What is it?"

"Aconite."

"Aconite? That's…monkshood. Isn't it a poison?"

"So's chemo."

Wade had been watching the exchange and his eyes widened slightly in understanding. "It's a low dose of poison to counteract the transformation. Kind of like chemotherapy, you're getting something to 'kill' the disease, or at least control it."

"Will this make me sick, too?"

Grey nodded and then shrugged. "It works."

"How long do I have to take this?"

"Until you're cured. Or dead." Grey turned and headed back to the kitchen. Tim turned to Wade, his eyes wide, and the older man shook his head.

"Long haul, Tim. Remember I told you this wasn't going to be easy. It still beats the alternative, right?"

Tim nodded slowly and stared down at the mug. He took a cautious sniff, grimaced, and took a sip. It wasn't as bad as he had expected, but it still wasn't pleasant. He took a deep breath and took several long swallows of the liquid, pausing to cool his throat after each one. Finally he managed to finish the concoction. Before he could think about setting the mug down somewhere, Grey returned and took it from him before disappearing into the kitchen again. Tim wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but he thought he could feel the poison moving through his body and almost immediately, his limbs began to feel heavy and he could barely hold himself upright. Wade noticed his discomfort and helped him to lie down on the sofa with his feet hanging over the side. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but Tim didn't have the energy to find another place to recline.

"You OK?" Wade was studying him with concern.

Tim laughed weakly. "No. But I guess I better get used to that."

"Yeah." Wade sat in the chair Grey had vacated and, after watching Tim for several minutes, he opened the book again and continued to read. Tim remained awake despite his weakened state and let his eyes travel around the room once more. He noticed several leather-bound books with no titles on their spines and wondered what sort of information they held. Finally he worked up enough strength to ask a question.

"What now?"

Wade kept his eyes on the book while he answered. "This says the stuff that he gave you will suppress the transformation, except on the first night of the full moon. All Weres have to change on that night, so there's no stopping it."

Tim felt a cold twist of fear in the pit of his stomach. The knowledge that what terrified him most could not be avoided was almost like a physical blow and he barely managed to keep his voice steady when he asked the next question.

"So…what will we do then?"

Wade shook his head. "Don't know yet, but I imagine Grey has it figured out."

"I do."

Both men looked up at the man who had managed to silently slip back into the room. Before Wade could ask for clarification, the bell sounded in the front of the shop and Grey left.

"Guess I'll have to keep reading," Wade muttered and returned his attention to the book in his hands.

"Does it say anything about the cure? Or is what I just took part of that?"

"The monkshood itself won't cure you. It says here the plant, mixed with mountain ash sap and administered daily, with higher doses in the week leading up to the full moon, just keeps you from getting out of control until we can complete the cure. Haven't found exactly what that is yet, though." Wade lapsed into silence again, completely focused on what he was reading.

Tim let his head drop back onto the sofa and closed his eyes. Soon he felt the first twinges of nausea and groaned. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to move if it got worse.

"Tim?"

He took several deep breaths as he tried to force down the acid welling its way up from his stomach. After several convulsive swallows, he managed to open his eyes and immediately shut them.

"What's wrong?"

"Dizzy…"

The nausea returned in full force and he knew he was going to lose the battle to keep everything down. He tried to sit up but only managed to roll to the side before the drink he had been given made its reappearance. Mortified, he tried to get up, intent on dealing with the mess he had just made, but a restraining hand gently lowered him back to the sofa.

"Sorry…"

"It's OK, Kid," Wade's voice was surprisingly comforting. "It's not your fault."

Tim felt something damp and cool pressed against his forehead, which diminished the heat that had arisen there. The object was removed, and then applied again to the rest of his face before being removed again. He felt an arm slide under his shoulders and another under his knees, and felt his body being lifted. Without the strength to even open his eyes, he hung limply in the arms that carried him out of the room and up a flight of stairs. Soon he was lowered onto what felt like a bed, and a pillow was gently placed underneath his head. He felt his shoes being removed and then a blanket was spread over him.

"Thanks…tell Grey…sorry about…the mess…"

"Apology accepted."

Tim finally managed to open his eyes and stared up into the grey eyes looking down at him. The man held his gaze for a few moments before nodding and leaving the room. Tim then noticed Wade watching him, an all too familiar expression on his face.

"Get some rest, Kid. It will get better."

"Hope…so…"

Wade smiled and placed a comforting hand on Tim's forehead and the younger man's eyes started to drift shut. Just before they closed completely and sleep claimed him, he saw Wade settle into a chair next to his bed, open the book and continue to read.

XXX

Ziva opened the door to the gym at NCIS and slipped inside. It was almost midnight, but she had not felt like going home and had decided that a workout might help her take her mind off the situation, although she doubted it would help completely.

The gym was silent except for the sounds of leather pounding against leather. She noticed a figure in the far corner, working one of the heavy bags with a flurry of well placed punches. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when she recognized the person. She thought he had left hours ago.

"Tony? What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Ziva?" He turned towards her for a moment and she sucked in a breath in surprise. Tony was dripping with sweat but his face was pale except for two spots of color at his cheeks.

"How long have you been here?"

"Dunno. What time is it?" He threw a few more punches, each landing with deadly precision, but with less force than the previous hits she had witnessed.

"Almost zero-hundred."

"Huh. A couple hours I guess." He threw one more punch and turned to her fully. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I…needed to loosen up a little. My neck was getting stiff after staring at the screen all day."

"Cold cases. Gotta love 'em." He turned back to the bag, ready to start in again. Ziva put a restraining hand on his arm.

"You need to stop, Tony."

"Why?"

"Because…" She let out a sigh. "Because it will not help."

"You're probably right, Ziva. Nothing I do _ever_ helps."

"Tony…"

"Couldn't stop my partner from getting kidnapped by a monster. Couldn't realize it wasn't him I saw gunned down. Couldn't find the hell-hole where he was imprisoned and almost died for real. Couldn't help him deal with what happened. Couldn't keep my big damn mouth shut and keep Vance from sending him away. And I sure as hell couldn't do anything to help him now."

"None of that was your fault, Tony. You know that, and McGee…he would not want you to do…this." She touched one of his gloved hands and he flinched. "Hurting yourself will not help him get better."

"He doesn't deserve this, Ziva. With all the crap that's happened to him, and now…he might die. It's not right."

"He will not die, Tony. He has a good chance to beat the disease. I asked Ducky, and this doctor McGee is seeing and the place where he is getting treatment, they are the best." She forced a smile. "And Gibbs did not give him permission. He would not ignore such an order, yes?"

Tony just shook his head. "You think he really has that choice?"

"I do. Gibbs asked us when McGee left two weeks ago, do we have so little faith in him? I have decided that I have a _lot_ of faith in him, and I have hope: hope that his situation will improve, and hope in the belief that he will come back to us. I cannot accept any other outcome."

"'I believe in Tim McGee.' Maybe we should all get buttons that say that." Tony sent her a half-grin at the idea and she gave him a confused look in return.

"If that is what you wish."

"It's…never mind. I really hope you're right, Ziva. I don't…I don't want to lose another partner. I _did_ lose him once, and…"

"None of us want to go through that again."

Tony nodded and winced as he used one of his gloved hands to wipe his forehead. "I didn't realize how long I was here. Starting to feel it now."

"Good thing we are still working on cold cases tomorrow, then."

"Don't remind me…"

"Come on, I have something, an old family remedy, that will help your hands feel better."

"Oh _really_?"

Ziva had to snort softly at Tony's slightly leering grin. She knew it was another one of his masks, an attempt to at least _appear_ normal, but she would take what she could get. Their lives would not completely return to normal, but they would make the effort to carry on in their friend's absence, and wait and hope for him to be returned to them.

TBC…

* * *

Tony just can't resist his movie references, and neither can I ;) Did y'all catch it?

Next chapter: Wade tells Tim about the cure, and Tim's first full moon.


	4. Chapter 4

Dance with the Devil

Chapter 4

A ray of sunlight broke through a small gap in the curtain and slowly tracked across the face of the man lying on the bed, lost in a thankfully dreamless sleep. As the sun rose higher, the beam crept down to his eyes and he scrunched them tighter against the invader before turning his face away. Finally, the heat from the beam pulled him into consciousness and Tim slowly raised his lids, almost afraid of what he would see. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone, and the second was that the dizziness and nausea that had plagued him for what seemed like hours had finally dissipated. With a groan he slowly pulled himself into a half-reclined position and took a better look at his surroundings than he had been able to do when he had first been brought into the room.

Tim noticed a nightstand next to the twin-sized bed where he lay, and the old-fashioned alarm clock indicated that it was nearly twenty past seven. A jolt of panic hit him as the idea that he was late for work passed through his mind, followed by a twist of sadness when he remembered where he was. As he let his gaze wander around the room, he saw that his bag had been brought up and his shirts and jeans were already hanging in the small closet opposite the bed. Two folded towels and a washcloth were stacked in the chair next to the closet, and his travel kit was sitting on top of a dresser which stood next to the window.

Tim slowly folded back the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed before pulling himself into a sitting position. When he was sure that the nausea was not going to return, he stood on slightly trembling legs and moved over to the dresser. A quick check revealed the location of the rest of his clothes, so he grabbed what he needed, along with the towels and his kit and walked to the door which opened easily with a twist of the knob. He located the bathroom and headed for it with an unsteady gait. Once inside, he shut the door and glanced at himself in the mirror. He could almost imagine what his teammates' reaction would be if they saw him like this. He really did look like hell. He turned away from the mirror, afraid of what else he might see, and started his morning routine.

Fifteen minutes later he carefully descended the stairs to the first floor which brought him to the kitchen. Grey was there with his back to Tim, the motions of his arms indicating that he was chopping something. He glanced over his shoulder at Tim before retrieving two slices of bread from another cutting board and dropping them in the toaster. He then filled a mug with coffee from the percolator and set it on the table in front of one of the empty chairs, then put a spoon, a sugar bowl and a carton of cream on the table next to it, and returned to his task.

"Thank you," Tim managed to whisper. His throat was a little sore from yesterday's trauma.

Grey just tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement and kept chopping, occasionally stopping to deposit a handful of vegetables into the ceramic liner of a crock pot. Tim lowered himself into the chair, added cream and sugar to his mug, and took a cautious sip, surprised to discover that it was good coffee. When the toast popped up, Grey deftly retrieved it, put it on a plate, and set the plate in front of Tim along with another spoon and a jar of _Marna's Old Fashioned Apple Butter_. Not wanting to be rude, Tim added some of the contents of the jar to a piece of the toast and took a cautious bite. His eyes widened in appreciation as the flavors registered. Not only was it the best bread he had ever tasted, but the topping was the perfect compliment to it.

"This is _really_ good. Did you…make the bread?"

Grey shook his head. "Baker down the street. Marna."

Tim took another bite, savoring the mix of grains, nuts, fruits, and spices. The appetite that he had lost since the attack returned and he had soon finished both pieces. He was tempted to ask for more, but he remembered the effects of the 'medicine' he had been given and decided no to push it.

"Where's Wade?"

"Asleep. Up all night."

Tim felt a surge of guilt. He hoped the older man hadn't stayed up on his account. Grey seemed to sense his unease and added to his previous statement.

"Reading."

Tim managed a weak smile and nodded, feeling slightly better. Wade reminded him a lot of Gibbs, and when there was a job to do…well, both men seemed to have the same drive to see it through.

"So…he knows what the cure is now?" Grey nodded, his back still to Tim. "And it really works?" Grey nodded again. "How many…how many people has it cured?" He shrugged, and Tim decided he should probably clarify that question. "That are still around, I mean. Is there anyone alive who has survived…this?"

"One."

"That's _it_?" Grey didn't respond and Tim slumped in his chair before lowering his head into his hands. "I don't think I like those odds."

"Better than none."

Tim looked up to see Wade standing in the doorway.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I was. Don't need much." He moved to the table and sat down in the chair across from Tim. Almost immediately a mug of coffee was placed in front of Wade and he picked it up to inhale the scent before taking a sip. "Mmm… You are a gentleman and a scholar, Grey Collins."

The taciturn man ignored the comment and added more bread to the toaster. Wade chuckled and sat back to enjoy his coffee.

"So what is the cure?" asked Tim. "How long will it take?"

"I don't know how long it will take, but the idea behind the cure is fairly straightforward. We have to destroy the bloodline."

"Bloodline? What bloodline?"

"The Were bloodline, starting with the one that bit you."

"How do we do it?"

"Find it, find out who created it, kill it, and move on to the next one." A flash of worry crossed Wade's face before he met Tim's gaze. "It's going to take quite a bit of research. Think you're up to it?"

"I think so, but…" He glanced up at the clock. "How much time do I have before my next, uh, treatment?"

"Four hours." Both men turned to look at Grey, who still had his back to them. "Once a day. Until next week."

Tim winced. He couldn't imagine going through that twice in one day. Grey turned to study him for a moment. "Gets better with time."

Tim was quite glad to hear that, but then another problem occurred to him. "I don't exactly have my normal access. It's going to be a lot harder without it…not that I even know what I'm looking for."

"Not a problem. Most of what you're going to be looking for is in the public record, although you may need some access to police records. I know someone who can help with that."

"Another favor?"

Wade grinned. "I'm a regular Mr. Chapel."

"Who?"

"Never mind. But yes, it would be a favor repaid, and I can get you started on the right track."

"Once we find the one who…did this to me, how are we going to get it to tell us who did it to them?"

"Leave that to me."

There was something in Wade's tone that sent a chill down Tim's spine but before he could react, their host thumped a plate of toast down in front of the older man, breaking the silence and accompanying tension.

"Thanks." Grey gave him a curt nod and returned to the other side of the kitchen. Tim watched Wade enjoy his breakfast as he considered how they could track down the source of his torment.

"He has to be somewhere near Quantico, right? Both attacks were around there, and he seemed to be pretty familiar with the area. He also probably moved there recently since I didn't find any attacks during the previous full moons." He looked up at Wade, who nodded encouragingly. "So I'd be looking for people who transferred within the last month to six weeks."

"Might also have been someone who grew up in the area and moved back."

"That's a lot of ground to cover."

"Day shift," said Grey, his back still towards them

Tim turned his attention to the other man and mentally head-slapped himself for not remembering that they had an expert in the room. "That's true. They couldn't work nights. Is there anything…specific that a Were would need…their residence, vehicle…anything like that?"

Grey appeared to consider his question. "House, no. Car, off-road."

"To get to an isolated area where it can change. Narrows it down a little," said Wade. "Guess we better get started."

Their host disappeared through the door to the living room and returned with a stack of newspapers and a laptop balanced on top. He put the papers down in front of Wade and the laptop in front of Tim before disappearing through the door again. Tim looked up at the older man and saw an uneasy expression cross his face.

"You get the feeling he knows a lot more than he's telling?" he asked. Tim managed a weak chuckle.

"Just a little."

XXX

Tim checked his watch and shivered: two hours before sunset; on the night of the first full moon since his attack. He had been trying to prepare himself, mentally, for what was to come, but he was running blind. Although Grey's collection of books included plenty of information on the transformation from an outsider's point of view, but he held no first-person accounts of the experience within his rather extensive library. Tim had read that the treatment he was being given would suppress the extent of the change, but he could not find any information on just how much he could expect to experience.

Tim's reaction to the medicine Grey had been giving him had lessened during that first week, but the doubling of the dosage during the week leading up to the full moon had been miserable. He had managed to fight the nausea to the point where he no longer threw up anything he was given, but the dizziness he experienced kept him practically bed-bound. His appetite had fallen off again and about the only thing he could eat was that bread, and maybe some tea. He hoped it would get better after tonight, but he still had to _get_ through this night and he was worried, especially since he wasn't exactly sure what would be done to 'contain' him. The worst part of it all, though, was the fact that he could _feel_ the monster inside him begin to awaken in that last week, wanting to break free, and it more and more difficult to ignore that strange inhuman longing.

"You ready to go, kid?" Wade entered the room and crouched down next to Tim's chair as he tried to get the younger man to make eye contact.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice and berated himself for his weakness. "Sorry…"

"No need to apologize, Tim. You know that."

"Yeah. Let's...get this over with."

Wade helped him down the stairs and out the rear door to his waiting truck. To Tim's surprise, Grey was in the driver's seat. After Wade got Tim settled in the back seat, he climbed into the passenger side and Grey guided the vehicle onto the road leading out of town.

"Where are we going?"

"Apparently there's a place about an hour from here where we can keep you during the change," Wade replied when Grey didn't.

"What kind of place?"

"A mine."

"Oh…"

The rest of the trip was silent. Even Wade had no comments to make as Grey guided the big truck along increasingly rougher roads, and Tim concentrated on staying as still as possible. Finally they reached an area that looked as if it hadn't seen a human presence for years. The remains of ancient mining equipment rose against the sky like silent sentinels, and the clearing in which they were parked was bordered by thick forest. Tim was pretty sure they couldn't get much more isolated if they tried.

Grey climbed out of the truck and retrieved a large duffle bag from the back before walking towards the machinery about a hundred yards away. Wade helped Tim out of the back seat and Tim leaned on him as they followed their silent companion. Finally Grey stopped next to a pulley system that was poised next to a metal rimmed hole in the ground. The opening was probably fifteen feet wide and when they got close enough Tim could see that the hole went straight down. He thought he could see the bottom about thirty feet below the surface.

Grey pointed to the large rectangular bucket, perhaps six feet long and four feet wide, which hung above the shaft.

"Get in."

Tim paused, worried that the contraption would not hold his weight. Grey let out a sigh, the first hint of any emotion Tim had seen from the man, and tossed his bag into the bucket before climbing in himself.

"Get in. Both of you."

Wade helped Tim climb into the bucket before joining him, looking even more worried than Tim felt. Grey turned a metal crank on one end of the bucket and it slowly began to descend. Tim started to feel as if the walls were closing in and scrunched his eyes shut as he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm his fears.

Finally he felt the bottom of the bucket hit a sold surface and he opened his eyes. The light from the surface barely penetrated the gloom, but Tim could see the tunnel that had connected with the shaft had collapsed, sealing the room. The only way out was the way they had come in.

Grey pulled a lantern from his bag and turned it on before he climbed out of the bucket. Wade and Tim followed, and Tim saw several sets of shackles and chains attached to the far wall. He froze.

"Is that…for me?"

Grey dropped his bag and unzipped it before pulling out several additional lengths of chain along with some rope. He pointed to the wall and Tim slowly walked over to it, dreading what might happen next.

"Sit."

Tim lowered himself to the ground and sat with his back leaning against the wall. He watched, numbly, as Grey took one of the lengths of rope and wrapped it around his legs, starting at the ankle and ending just above his knees. Another length of rope was wrapped around his upper arms, pinning them to his chest. Grey then took two lengths of chain and repeated the process before pulling some of the chain from the wall and attaching the shackles around Tim's ankles. Another set went around his wrists, which were then crossed over his chest and linked to two large metal rings in the wall behind him. The last chain was wrapped around Tim's torso, over his crossed arms, and hooked to another ring directly over his head.

"I don't think I'm going anywhere," he muttered and tried to smile, failing miserably.

Grey reached into his bag one more time and silently held out a narrow band of cloth for Tim's inspection. He looked at Tim and raised an eyebrow in query. Tim took a few seconds to realize what it was: a blindfold. He looked up at his jailer and, after a moment's hesitation, nodded. Grey lifted the cloth towards Tim's eyes but Wade caught his wrist and shook his head.

"I'll do it."

He took the blindfold from Grey and the man retreated, taking his bag with him. Wade crouched down in front of Tim and his eyes searched the younger man's face, although Tim wasn't sure what he was hoping to find.

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"Never apologize. Sign of weakness," he whispered and cursed the tear that slowly tracked down his cheek.

Wade chuckled and placed his hand against Tim's cheek, wiping away the tear. "You'll get through this, Kid. You've got a lot of people pulling for you."

"I know. Thanks." He tilted his chin toward the cloth in Wade's hand. "Go ahead. I'm ready. See you…tomorrow."

"Count on it." Wade placed the blindfold over Tim's eyes and tied it snuggly behind his head. He patted Tim's shoulder, and soon Tim heard a clank as the bucket started to ascend, abandoning him in the darkness.

After what seemed like hours, he heard a series of clanks far above him, and he knew that the two men had reached the top and he would soon be completely alone. He waited, not knowing what was going to happen when the sun set, but he did know that if it was at all possible, he would fight it with every fiber of his being.

He tried to keep his mind off of what was coming. He recited formulas, code, poems, anything that required his concentration and he kept it up for what felt like hours. He started to wonder if the whole thing was a mistake, that all of the things he had gone through in preparation for this were wasted when suddenly he felt a burning sensation in his chest. It spread quickly, reaching the tips of his extremities with lightning speed, and in seconds he felt as if his entire body was on fire. He clenched his teeth as he tried to ride it out but then, to his horror, he felt his bones begin to shift, to _ripple_ beneath his skin, and he barely managed to hold back a whimper of terror. He fought to remain in control, to will his body to obey and resist the transformation, but the agony overtook his mind and soon he felt the creature rise up within him. His soft cries of panic grew into agonized screams, and then, as the last remnants of his humanity fled in terror, to feral, primal howls.

XXX

Gibbs looked up at the pale, full circle of the moon as it peeked above the skyline and felt a cold twist of fear in his stomach. It had been two weeks since Tim had begun his journey to find a cure, and while he knew that it would take time to deal with this problem, Gibbs couldn't help but hope that the whole thing would be over before the moon reached that dreaded phase.

Now, as he watched the moon move higher above the horizon, he wondered how the sometimes gentle and generally all too innocent young man that he had known for so many years was handling what was likely happening to him. Gibbs could not even begin to comprehend the terror the young man would be feeling, as he himself was not even certain what would happen, but he knew, given Tim's true nature, that it must be horrifying to be literally overtaken by a monster within.

Gibbs climbed his front steps, opened the door, and stopped to listen to the interior of his house. Sense that he was indeed alone, he shut the door and stepped into the living room, lighting a lamp as he did so. He decided that he would check in with Wade tomorrow, just to make sure that the plan was still on track. Gibbs _did_ believe what he had told his agent: Tim would get through this. There was no other alternative.

With a sigh, he headed towards the basement, hoping a new project would help whittle away a few of the hours that he knew he wouldn't spend sleeping tonight. He paused, returned to the front door, and for the first time in a very long time, he locked it.

XXX

The sun had been up for less than an hour when Wade pulled his truck into the clearing adjacent to the old mine. He quickly climbed out and grabbed a bag from the back seat before heading towards the shaft where they had left Tim the night before. Wade had been unable to sleep, worrying that their quest for a cure might be for nothing if Tim, the _person_ he was, had not survived that first night. It was a possibility that he had not wanted to consider, but after seeing the containment process himself, the innate cruelty of it, he had been unable to think about anything else.

He reached the shaft and looked down, but the bottom was cloaked in shadows and he could not see any sign of movement within its depths. He flipped on the lantern that he had brought with him, the one that Grey had conveniently left sitting on the kitchen table, and climbed into the bucket. He turned the crank as fast as he dared and after an agonizingly long descent, he reached the bottom. He lifted his lantern and checked the corner where they had left the young man the night before. To Wade's great relief Tim was still where they had left him: he hadn't been strong enough to break the bonds, and therefore the medicine that Grey had been giving him had done its job. A second look, however, caused Wade's heart to skip a beat. Tim was still sitting against the wall, slumped forward against his restraints, and his head hung limply against his chest. The blindfold had slipped from his eyes and was hanging around his neck and the front of Tim's chest was bloodstained. As Wade moved closer he could see the long tears in the t-shirt Tim wore. His shoes were split and hanging loosely off his feet, and the socks were in tatters.

"Tim? It's me, Wade. Are you…" Wade realized that asking if the kid was OK would sound completely asinine. "Are you awake?"

Tim slowly raised his head and Wade felt a surge of guilt and fear as those green eyes, always so full of intelligence and vitality, appeared flat and lifeless. The kid just stared at him for what seemed like an eternity before his gaze slowly tracked down over his battered body.

"Tim?"

"This…is gonna…be hell…on my wardrobe."

Wade let out a relieved bark of laughter. Tim _was_ still in there after all. He immediately began to release the kid from his bindings, revealing even more damage which, fortunately, was already starting to heal. When the last of the rope had been removed, he lifted Tim to his feet and helped him climb into the bucket, where the younger man collapsed against one of the rust-streaked sides.

"We'll be topside, soon. Just hang on."

"Not…going…anywhere."

"No, _you're_ still here. You're gonna be OK, Kid."

Tim didn't answer, and Wade looked over at him and saw that he was fast asleep. Wade felt the tightness in his chest that he had felt since last night start to loosen, and he let out a sigh of relief. Tim was battered but not broken. He had made it though that first night of Hell, and Wade experienced a renewed belief that they might really beat this thing after all.

TBC…

* * *

Am I going to let them all off that easy? Well… ;)

Virtual cookies to anyone who gets Wade's "Mr. Chapel" reference :)


	5. Chapter 5

Dance with the Devil

Chapter 5

Tony stepped into the quiet lab and stopped. The only sounds were the soft hums of the machines as they went about their duties, spitting out spectra and chemical formulas to help identify the myriad of evidence that passed through as part of the NCIS caseload. The one who normally interpreted that data was standing with her back to him, staring at the wall. Abby had not played her music as often in the past few weeks, but its presence or absence could signify whether or not she was having a good day. Today did not look to be a good one.

"Hey, Abbs," he called softly. Past experience told him that on bad days, it was best not to use his habitual upbeat tone. Such an offense would lead to the forensic scientist retreating to her office until he left her alone with her work.

Abby turned her head to look over her shoulder and gave him a half-hearted smile. "Hey, Tony." She turned back to the display she had been studying: an arrangement of photos surrounding a post-it, the double-digit number marked with black ink on its surface.

"Fifteen days. Seems longer," he said as he moved to stand beside her. Indeed it had only been a little over two weeks since McGee had left to take his medical leave. After a couple of days, the rest of the team had caught a new case and it had kept them busy, although the impact of their teammate's absence became even more apparent. It had taken them longer to search records and make connections, and by the time the case was put to bed their nerves had been stretched to the breaking point. Vance informed them that a TAD would be arriving in two weeks, but until then he expected an attempt to return to as normal a pace as possible. Tony had expected an explosion from Gibbs, but the lead agent had simply told them to follow orders. That, more than anything else, brought home to them how much their loss was affecting the team leader.

Abby slowly reached out a hand and touched one of the pictures. Tony remembered when that particular photo had been taken: it had been a month after Tim had been rescued and returned to them, and Tony had insisted that they needed a team night out at the bar. He had snapped the candid of McGee, who was sitting silently listening to Ducky expound on the virtues of Scottish whiskey over Irish whiskey, much to the bemusement of the pub owner. Tony studied the picture now, wondering if any trace of the illness that had up-heaved the younger agent's life had been apparent, but Tim looked normal. A little pale, yes, but nothing like he had been the day he had left them.

"I miss him, Tony. Nothing is the same. I just want everything to be the way it was before…_all_ of this happened. We can't even talk to him. He's hurting, and he's all alone. It's not fair."

"No, it's not." He sighed and broached the subject that he had come down to the lab to discuss in the first place. "Ducky is making his call to McGee's doctor today. We're all going down to Autopsy to see what he has to say. Do you think you can handle joining us?"

"Yeah… I can do that." She walked over to one of her computers and typed a few commands before heading for the door with Tony. He put an arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him as they made their way down to Autopsy.

When they arrived, Ducky was still on the phone, listening intently. Gibbs and Ziva were watching him, and Palmer, who had learned of the situation when he overheard Ducky and Gibbs discussing McGee's fate, hovered nearby. Tony and Abby joined the group and waited silently as Ducky thanked the person on the other line and placed the receiver back in its cradle.

"Well?" Gibbs asked, clearly frustrated by something, but Tony didn't think it had to do with Ducky's delay in revealing what he knew. Ducky turned to face them.

"Timothy had completed his first round of treatment. The signs are positive, and the doctor believed that have slowed and perhaps halted the progression of the disease. He is not getting any worse."

"But is he getting better?"

"Time will tell, Ziva. He still has a long way to go to beat the disease, but these first weeks have been encouraging."

"When can he come home, Ducky?"

"They do not yet know that, Abigail. It is likely to be several months before the disease shows signs of remission."

"Any chance we could talk to him, Ducky? He'd probably appreciate a familiar voice."

"I'm afraid the treatment had left Timothy in an extremely weakened state. He is in no condition to attempt any sort of communication. As I told you before, he needs to focus on his own healing and recovery, although his doctor has agreed to pass on any well wishes you would like to give."

Tony sighed. His imagination had provided him with images of what McGee must be going through, and he wasn't sure how much their 'well wishes' would help. He glanced at Gibbs, who had remained silent for most of the conversation and noticed that the lead agent wore a strange expression, one he was sure he'd never seen associated with the man before. He started to ask the Boss what he thought of the situation but before he could say anything Gibbs ordered his team to get back to work. Tony and Ziva exchanged worried glances before heading back to their desks. He knew they'd be discussing Gibbs' strange behavior later, but now they had a job to do, one which might help keep their minds off their friend's situation. Maybe.

XXX

Tim closed the laptop in front of him with a sigh. Two weeks had passed since the full moon, and it had taken him almost a week to recover to the point where he could return to helping Wade track down the first link in his 'bloodline'. The research he had been able to do since then had been slow and extremely frustrating. He had realized how much he relied on the connections and access he had enjoyed, and doing searches without the normal databases available to him…

It had taken him nearly all of that second week, but between the two of them they had finally narrowed it down to two suspects. Wade had gone back to, as he put it, 'gather intel', and Tim was alone with his host. It was almost a relief: Wade had been acting differently towards him since the night of the full moon. Tim wasn't sure if it was because of the man's own guilt, or if the true reality of Tim's 'condition' had finally hit him. That night _had_ made it real for Tim, and he could now admit what he was.

"I'm a monster," he whispered to himself and let his head drop into his hands. After that first change, in the days that followed, Tim had been truly afraid to look at his reflection in the mirror. He had barely been able to before, but now…he avoided it at all costs. He didn't want to see the thing he had become, hidden behind a human mask. Grey semmed to have noticed his avoidance but had said nothing, and Wade had tried to talk to him but the man's own hesitancy in dealing with him had not helped matters in the least. Tim felt more isolated than he had even been in his life but he also acknowledged that it was for the best.

A light rapping on the back door pulled him from his melancholy thoughts and he looked up in surprise. He hesitated, but when the knocking sounded again he rose from his seat at the table and slowly crossed the kitchen to answer the summons. When he opened the door he saw a petite, middle-aged woman with dark eyes and silver-streaked hair staring up at him. She seemed startled by his appearance, but quickly hid it away with a surprisingly warm smile.

"You must be Grey's guest. Tim, right? I'm Marna." She held up the bag she was carrying. "Special delivery."

"Marna…the baker? Sorry, please, come in." Tim's innate politeness took over. "Here, let me get that for you." He tried to retrieve the bag from her hands and opened the door to allow her access to the kitchen.

"Oh, don't worry about that," she said as she kept a hold on the bag and moved past him. "It's not that heavy." She placed the bag on the counter and turned to face him, a concerned expression crossing her face as she did so. "Are you doing OK, sweetie? You don't look like you should be up and around."

Tim blushed slightly at her attention. It had been awhile since someone other than Wade had studied him this intently.

"I'm…fine. I've just been feeling a bit under the weather."

She reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Yes, I know. Grey mentioned that you're sick, but you're here to get better. Right? He's going to help you."

"I, uh…hope so."

She smiled. It was such a warm, caring smile that Tim felt a lump in his throat. It was the same type of smile that his mother had given him when he was sick or traumatized as a child, and he had to turn away before he embarrassed himself further by allowing his emotions to surface. Marna seemed to notice, but instead of backing away she suddenly pulled him into a tight hug.

"It's going to be OK. Grey is…he's good at helping people as long as they're willing to be helped." She looked up and met his eyes. "You want to be helped, right?"

Tim nodded. His voice seemed to have failed him and that was all he could do.

"Good. It's seems bad right now, I know, but don't give up hope. Have faith, especially in yourself." She released him and stepped back. "You will get better. Just keep believing that."

"I…I'll try."

She reached up and patted his cheek. "Good. Now tell Grey I'll have the next batch to him in a couple of days."

"I can do that." Finally he managed a smile. "Thank you…for everything."

She gave his arm one more gentle squeeze before she quickly left and shut the door behind her. Tim slowly moved back to the table, still feeling the comforting embrace and puzzling over the kindness of strangers. Finally, he opened the laptop again and, with an unconsciously renewed enthusiasm, got back to work.

XXX

Richard Creighton, a civilian web services coordinator for the Quantico Marine Base, unlocked the door to his small but well maintained split level home and stepped inside. He deactivated the alarm, which was in place more for show than actual necessity, and shut the door before engaging the double-bolt. He dropped his shoulder bag next to the door and headed for the kitchen. He was starving, and since he wouldn't be going out tonight, he decided that a nice juicy rare steak would be just the thing to satisfy his appetite. He chuckled at the thought as he reached the space at the rear of the house and opened the fridge. One night a month, his craving for meat had to be satisfied by more socially acceptable means. The forest creatures, and any idiotic human who happened to be roaming his hunting grounds at night, were safe when the moon was completely new and dark.

He pulled out the steak, meant only to feed one now, and gave a soft grunt of disgust. His companion for the past two years was gone. The man's own fault, to be sure. He had decided the desire for a certain delicacy was too strong and had the audacity to think he could actually hunt so close to where he worked. He had bragged of his kill the next night, and had invited Richard to join him, but the older man had not been so quick to dismiss the danger. The key to surviving what they were was to remain below the radar. Not to escape the attention of the local cops, or even base security, but those who would recognize the signs and would call in those who were the _real_ danger.

As fate would have it, one of the NCIS investigators had ruined their streak of good luck. Kevin had been furious and had insisted on hunting the man down before he could bring in someone who had the knowledge and skills to destroy them. Richard had begrudgingly allowed him to participate in his fool's errand. On that last night, when Kevin was sure he had tracked down the interloper, Richard had agreed to join him. He had not, however, been ready to sacrifice himself for his partner's need for revenge. He had also not expected the rage he felt when he witnessed the end game and decided that he would be doling out a little poetic justice of his own. What better fate for the man that had disrupted his life than to dramatically alter his own, and what better revenge on a hunter of his kind than to turn the tables and require him to hunt his own partner?

Richard started to season the meat and fired up the indoor grill on his stovetop. He felt the familiar surge of longing as he studied the poor substitute. He had limited his hunts, traveling further and further afield to satisfy his needs while remaining hidden from the man whom he was sure was hunting him, and what he had been able to obtain was simply not enough. He wanted, no, _needed_ something in a higher taxonomic order. He had two weeks vacation coming. He could take a much longer trip, away from the area, and satiate his craving without drawing the immediate attention of his pursuer.

As the smell of cooking meat hit his sensitive nostrils, he smiled. He had to wonder how his new creation had dealt with the change. Had he embraced it, or had he begged his friend to end it for him? Richard hadn't noticed any reports of attacks that held the signature of the newly initiated, so he assumed the latter had occurred. Pity. It might have been nice to have another companion, once the young man understood the gift he had been given.

Suddenly, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he froze. Something was amiss. Before he could turn, he felt something wrap around his neck, and the burning he felt wrenched a strangled cry of pain from his throat. Much to his surprise, he was unable to fight off his attacker and with a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized what sort of person now held him, helpless, and a painful embrace. His closed his eyes as his strength left him and he fell to the floor with a painful crash. When he was able to open them again, he was staring directly into a pair of cold blue eyes, alight with malicious intent. The face below those eyes twisted into a chilling smile.

"Remember me?"

XXX

Dr. Benjamin Porter lowered the handset of the phone back into its cradle and sighed. It had been three months since he had first agreed to this project, providing medical information on the diagnosis, treatment, and diagnosis for a man he had never even met. When he started his career, he had never expected to be so flagrantly violating his own personal code of ethics. Then again, he had never expected one of his deceased patients to start wreaking havoc in his newly established clinic. He had been at his wit's end to explain the strange sounds, mysteriously moved equipment, and flickering lights. When he had been pelted with objects thrown by an unseen force, however, he had painfully admitted that he was out of his depth, and the potential for damage not only to his patience, but his ability to maintain a facility to help him, had sent him searching for someone who could help him deal with it. The large, blue eyed man who has responded to Porter's request had not been what the doctor was expecting, but his efficiency in eliminating the threat had been both convincing and eye-opening. He learned of the man's golden rule, and while he had absolutely no desire to ever meet any of the _other_ reasons to be afraid of the dark, he had offered his help, whenever and however the man known to him only as Wade required it.

Now, fifteen years after their first meeting, and numerous minor requests for information or "patching up", Dr. Porter was involved in a long-term project. It had been surprisingly easy at first, but this Dr. "Call me Ducky" Mallard was getting a little more insistent for details. Dr. Porter knew, despite his worries, that he could maintain the façade for as long as possible. He just hoped that Wade was having success in helping his own patient.

XXX

The sound of raised voices from the floor below roused Tim from his daze and he levered himself into a sitting position. He wondered who in the world could be making such a commotion, the likes of which he had not heard in the six months he had been living above the shop. He then wondered if it was Wade, returning early from one of his many excursions to track down the line of Weres that had caused them such misery. Tim remembered the first time he had received news from Wade that the first of the line had been eliminated, and where to start looking for the next candidate. He had felt a range of emotions: elation, fear, and a large amount of uneasiness regarding just _how_ Wade had obtained this information. He had questioned the man when he returned but Wade had simply told him that it was part of his job and not to worry. Tim _had_ worried, partially for Wade himself, partially for what type of repercussions Wade's actions might have against his ability to find the rest of the bloodline, and partially for his family and team if they happened to discover his secret. He didn't think he could face them knowing what he had truly been doing these past few months.

Tim checked his watch and was startled to discover that it was already late afternoon, barely two hours before sunset. Maybe it was Wade, after all, and he would be accompanying the men to the mine shaft for their monthly ritual instead of meeting them there. He rose from his bed and headed down stairs, pausing to listen for the tell tale sounds of Grey closing up the shop, but the rooms beyond were silent. He cautiously moved through the work room and opened the door leading to the front office. The sight that met his eyes caused to him to freeze in horror. The area looked like a tornado had hit, and among the debris lay Grey, face down and unmoving.

"Grey?" Tim automatically checked for signs of the perpetrators, an old habit he hadn't lost during his months in confinement, and rushed to the man's side. A deep gash on the side of his head was leaking blood and he showed no response to Tim's frantic calls. Tim placed two fingers against his neck and experienced a rush of relief as he felt a strong beat beneath his fingertips. He shook the unconscious man's shoulder but couldn't rouse him, and soon tendrils of panic began to work their way through his mind. He dug around in the pile of fractured computer parts from the toppled desktop and finally found the cell phone that Grey kept specifically for keeping contact with Wade. Tim pressed the first stored number and waited, his heart beating faster as his anxiety took over. Finally a rough voice answered.

"_Yeah?"_

"Grey was attacked. He's unconscious and I can't get him to wake up!"

"_Tim? What in the hell happened?"_

"I don't know! I heard noise downstairs and I came down to see what was going on. I found him like this. I…what do I do?"

"_Call 911, and then get the hell out of there. Take Grey's truck and I'll meet you at the mine."_

"But what about-?"

"_Is he still breathing?"_

Tim quickly checked to reassure himself. "Yeah."

"_Then let the ambulance people deal with him. He'll be OK, but **nobody** will if you don't get out of there. Got that?"_

"Got it. But—"

"_Go!"_

Tim saw that Wade had already ended the call and he quickly dialed 911. He told the operator what had happened as he searched for Grey's keys, silently apologizing to the unconscious man. Finally he found them and ended the call just as the dispatcher asked for his identification. He took one last look before heading back through the shop and kitchen and out the back door. Grey's truck was parked in a garage behind the shop, and Tim forced the door open before climbing into the driver's seat and backing the vehicle out with a squeal of tires. He sent another soft apology to the man that had been helping him and guide the truck out of town and fast as he dared.

It had been over six months since Tim had driven, and given his unsteadiness, he worried whether or not he would even make it to the site without wrecking the meticulously maintained vehicle. Tim soon realized he should have paid better attention to the route as well and had to slow down to get his bearings. Finally he remembered a strange mailbox, shaped like a tractor, which signaled the approach to the first turnoff and corrected his course. It took all of his concentration to keep the vehicle on the road and he barely noticed how the sun was steadily sinking below the trees. He prayed that the bindings Grey had used were ready, as they always seemed to be when the expert had driven them to the site, and doubly prayed that Wade would meet him there on time.

He was perhaps two miles from his destination when the truck hit a particularly nasty rut and the wheel was jerked from his hands. He tried to regain control but the wheel was locked and suddenly the truck veered off the road and came to a teeth-shattering stop against a large pine tree. Dazed, Tim took several minutes to realize what had happened before he fought his way out of the vehicle and crawled to the back. He had to get that bag, and he had to get to the mine. He ignored his own injuries and retrieved the bindings from the back of the truck before stumbling towards his prison. He was barely five hundred yards from his destination when the sun slipped below the horizon. He staggered towards the mine shaft, fully conscious of what was coming, and his frantic litany of "no, no, NO!" was the only sound that reached his ears. Suddenly he stopped, unable to move further. The bag fell from his hands and the familiar burning sensation gripped his heart. With one final terrified scream, he fell forward, and the monster than had lain dormant within him, normal bound by the physical ropes and chains as well as the boundaries Tim had created against it, rose up. It howled in agony, rage and then, as its eyes surveyed its surroundings, triumph.

This time there was nothing left to stop it.

TBC…

* * *

Yes, that was evil. Sorry. Looks like there will be three more chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ziva leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to turn out, no, _tune_ out, the relentless chatter of the man next to her. Special Agent Thomas Bowen, the most recent in a long string of TADs assigned to their team, didn't appear to notice her annoyance. He prattled on about his favorite TV shows, the plots of which were neither appealing nor sensible to Ziva. The only reason she was currently listening to the oblivious man was because no one else could even remotely tolerate him.

Agent Bowen had seemed determined to make friends with his new teammates and it appeared that he just could not understand when he was not wanted. He butted into their conversations, asked incessant questions about their personal lives, and shared his unwanted opinions at every opportunity, all traits that the team themselves had displayed at one time, it was true, but never which such aggravating frequency. Tony had at first ignored him, then sharply admonished him for his behavior, but the man persisted. Gibbs would simply leave when Bowen started in, although Ziva suspected it was to keep from killing the agent rather than to preserve his own mental state. Even Ziva's threats of serious injury inflicted with office supplies had not deterred the agent's enthusiasm for talking to his long-suffering co-workers.

Bowen's credentials were exceptional, and Vance had made it clear that the TAD would not be as temporary as the previously assigned agents, which gave the rest of the team little choice but to deal with him. When the MCRT's current case required a trip to the middle of nowhere, Ziva had been given the task of accompanying the garrulous man. He had insisted on driving, and instead of listening to the young agent whine for the entire trip, Ziva had acquiesced. With their interviews completed, they had headed back towards D.C. just as the sun had slipped below the tree line.

"Man, this is a bad road. 'Crooked as a dog's hind leg', as my granddad used to say. They could sure spend more time on maintenance, too."

Ziva swore softly to herself and tried to ignore him, and since no radio station was available, she had no way to drown out his commentary.

"You should probably watch for deer. They have a bad habit of just jumping out when you least—_what in the hell is that!"_

Ziva opened her eyes in time to see the sedan veer sharply to the right as Bowen attempted to avoid a hulking shape in the middle of the road. He tried to correct, but the front wheel caught a the sharp edge of the asphalt and burst with a loud _bang_, sending the sedan careening to the other side where it left the road and hurtled into a ditch. The resulting collision hurled Ziva painfully against the shoulder strap of her seat belt and released the airbag which slammed her back into her seat, dazing her.

After a minute, her head finally began to clear and she turned towards the driver. Bowen was slumped towards the steering wheel, held in place by his own seatbelt and airbag. She could see blood on his face, flowing sluggishly from a wound in his temple.

"Bowen? Can you hear me?" She received no response. "Damn it." She reached over and searched for a pulse and after she detected one, she fished out her cell phone and checked for a signal. Only one bar flickered on the screen. She tried to open the door so she could get better reception but it wouldn't budge. She hoped the one bar was enough and started to call for help when she heard the sound of heavy footfalls approaching. As she turned her head, the light from the rising moon illuminated the area beyond her window and she saw a large figure, moving on all fours, step into view. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. The thing was vaguely canine in appearance, with long, wiry fur that appeared black in the moonlight, but it was much bigger than any dog Ziva had ever seen. It turned its head and when it caught sight of her it raised itself up on two powerful hind legs, cocking its head to the side as it studied her with intensity.

Ziva muttered a soft exclamation in Hebrew as it started to move towards her, and a low, deep growl emitted from its throat as it approached the disabled sedan. She slowly reached for her weapon, never taking her eyes off of the creature, and pulled the gun free of its holster before raising it and pointing it towards the side window. She drew back as the creature reached the sedan and suddenly it was staring through the glass directly at her. She couldn't stop the soft cry of shock when she stared into its eyes. She had expected to see the amber eyes of a wolf, or something altogether alien, but to her complete and utter surprise the eyes looking back at her were undeniably human in appearance. What shocked her even more was the fact that they were a beautiful green, clearly visible in the bright light from the full moon, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest when she realized those eyes were hauntingly familiar.

_No… That is impossible…_

The creature tilted its head and looked at her. Suddenly recognition appeared in its gaze and it drew back with a soft whimper. She thought she could almost see shame and regret cross its features before it rose up, shook its head vigorously and loped off in the direction it had come. Ziva let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding as she watched it disappear into the darkness, and a few moments later the silence of the forest surrounding her was broken by a long, mournful howl.

Ziva blinked and shook her head, hoping that what she had just witnessed was merely a dream, or a hallucination brought on by a concussion sustained in the accident. A low groan from Bowen brought her to her senses and she checked her phone again, hoping to have a better signal. A second bar flashed above the first, now steady, and Ziva quickly dialed the number. She explained what had happened to the dispatcher, or at least most of what had happened, and asked them to hurry. Finally she disconnected the call and checked out the window to see if the… thing had returned. There was no sign of it, and after checking every possible ingress, she leaned back to wait for help to arrive. She desperately tried to think of a rational explanation for what she had seen, but her thoughts continued to be drawn back to one horrible conclusion.

XXX

Wade swore profusely as he drove his truck as fast as he could towards the mine. The sun had already set, but he hoped that Tim had reached the shaft and had been able to reach the bottom, somehow, before the moon had made its appearance. He cursed himself for not having a backup plan and he cursed whoever had prevented Grey from performing his duties on Tim's behalf. This series of events was even more heart-wrenching due to the fact that is all could have been prevented, if only he had been closer. He should have made an effort to be with Tim on this day, each and every month, instead of rushing in at the last minute to help imprison the poor man in preparation for his monthly torture. If only he could have overcome his own fears…

Wade pulled the truck into the clearing and slammed on the brakes, bringing it to a screeching halt. He quickly surveyed the area and saw the bag that Grey had always carried on these excursions lying near the edge of the forest. Tim had made it this far, but where was he now? Wade cautiously opened his door and stepped out, listening for any sounds that would signify that the young man was around, but the area remained silent. He went to the back of his truck and removed the horsehair rope net, a crossbow and several of the specially treated wooden stakes that he had kept handy during his travels. He didn't want to use the weapon he had no choice. If…what Tim had become showed up, Wade intended to use the net to weaken it and the stakes to drive it towards the mine shaft. The fall wouldn't kill it, and the injuries sustained would be mostly healed before the night was over, but it would keep contained. Wade was sure his familiar scent would lure it back to the clearing, as long as it hadn't gone too far. He prayed that it hadn't encountered anyone else.

Suddenly a howl broke the silence and Wade quickly climbed the nearest tree to give him a vantage point. From his perch, he saw a dark shape emerge from the forest and move unerringly towards the mine shaft. He watched, horrified as it stopped at the edge of the opening, almost as if it was steeling itself and then it fell forward into the hole. A brief second later a howl of pure agony shattered the night and Wade was out of the tree and running towards the sound before he even realized it. He reached the pit and looked down. He was barely able to make out the form at the bottom, curled up on itself and letting out soft cries of pain. Wade stepped back and nearly fell as the mix of emotions he had barely been able to suppress since Tim's frantic call washed over him. Finally, after pulling himself together, he moved back to the edge of the shaft.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but the form below gave no indication that it had heard him. He turned and headed back to his truck, his gut churning with worry. There was nothing he could do to help the resident of that pit until dawn, but in the mean time, he needed to determine just how big of a mess he was going to have to clean up.

XXX

Gibbs burst through the doors to the hospital with Tony right on his heels. The call he had received five hours ago had sent a stiletto of fear straight through his heart and he had barely been able to place another call to his last team member. Tony had pretty much broken all land speed records to reach his Boss' house before Gibbs had left, and the two had made the drive in grim silence.

When the two men reached the front desk, they flashed their badges to the nurse behind the counter.

"Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, NCIS. Two of our people were brought in a few hours ago."

"Ah, yes, they said you would be coming. Agent Bowen has been admitted, but Agent David is waiting for you, just down the hall in-." She wasn't able to finish her sentence before both agents dashed off in the direction she had indicated. A quick search revealed Ziva, sitting on an exam table, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She raised her head as the two men entered the room and a she gave them a weak smile.

"Gibbs, Tony, I…" Gibbs immediately went to her and pulled her into a tight embrace, surprising both younger agents. She shakily raised her arms and returned the hug, tightening her grip as the memories of the night's events washed over her. She felt Tony's hand grip her shoulder as he offered silent support. Finally Gibbs pulled back and looked her in the eye.

"What happened?"

She took a deep breath. "We were on our way back. Agent Bowen was driving when he saw… something in the middle of the road and swerved to avoid it. He lost control of the vehicle and…it crashed."

"I'm going to kill him," growled Tony and Ziva shuddered. "What was he trying to avoid? A deer?"

"I… do not know. I did not get a good look at it." Gibbs glanced at Tony and was sure that the younger man hadn't caught on to the lie. He studied the woman and saw that underneath her calm exterior, she was terrified. "How is Agent Bowen?"

"The nurse at the front desk said they admitted him." Tony caught Gibbs' expression and gave the two agents a humorless smile. "Guess I better go check." He left and Gibbs gently took hold of Ziva's chin and tilted it upward so she was staring into his eyes.

"What happened, Ziva?"

"I cannot tell you, not here."

The sound of footsteps drew their attention to the door and a doctor walked in, holding a chart. "Agent David? You're cleared to leave now that your ride is here. I recommend taking it easy for a day or two. Sometimes injuries make themselves known once the shock wears off." He turned to Gibbs'. "Your other Agent didn't get off quite so easily. He has a concussion and we're keeping him overnight for observation." He smiled. "Those deer, they can be a real hazard. You're lucky you didn't hit it straight on. The legs or rack could have gone through the windshield and caused a lot more damage."

"So it was a deer? Agent Bowen remembers?"

"Well, no, but what else would it be? No bears in the area for the past hundred years, although I understand they do sometimes show up north of here. Maybe one wandered down."

"Maybe… Thank you doctor. I would like to go home now, Gibbs."

"OK. We'll send Tony back in the morning to retrieve Bowen."

"Poor Tony," she whispered under her breath and Gibbs smirked.

The doctor's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you sure you don't want someone to stay?"

"I think it would be better for _everyone_ if we left Agent Bowen alone," said Tony as he entered the room. "Ready to go, Ziva?"

"Yes, I am."

Gibbs lent a steadying arm as she hopped down off the table and Tony retrieved her belongings before following Ziva and Gibbs to the car. He opened the back door of the sedan for her but she said she would prefer the front seat instead. With a shrug, Tony climbed in the back as Ziva settled in the front passenger seat and Gibbs slipped in behind the wheel. Once they were back on the road, Tony spoke, the concern in his voice causing Ziva's eyes to sting with barely controlled tears.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I am fine. Just a little… shaken."

"I'm going to _kill_ Bowen," Tony declared again. "You're damn lucky you walked away from that without a scratch."

"Yes, very lucky."

Tony caught Gibbs' glare in the rearview mirror and lapsed into silence. Soon the sounds of soft snoring could be heard from the back seat.

"I _told _you he does that," Ziva muttered and Gibbs smirked again.

They rode in relative silence for an hour before Gibbs spoke.

"What happened, Ziva?"

She glanced back at Tony, who still appeared to be asleep, but she did not want to take that risk.

"I am not really sure, Gibbs."

"Did Bowen swerve to avoid something?"

"Yes."

"And he lost control and crashed."

"Yes."

"And then what?"

She remained silent and Gibbs huffed softly, but he did not press for any more information. Ziva eventually started to doze, but her dreams were haunted by the image of that horrible, twisted face that had appeared outside her window in the moonlight.

She woke with a start when they pulled into Gibbs' driveway and sat up, rubbing her painfully stiffening neck. The eastern horizon was just starting to turn pink and she breathed a sigh of relief. The night was over, although she wondered what that would mean for the thing that she had observed on that isolated section of highway. She climbed out of the car and gazed at the lightening sky.

"Come on, Ziva, I'll give you a ride home," said Tony as he climbed out of the back seat.

"No thank you, Tony. I would rather stay here for a little while… if that is alright with you, Gibbs?"

"Fine, but I'm going to need to go to the Yard and make a report."

"Vance is gonna be pissed," muttered Tony.

"At Agent Bowen? I imagine he will be angry, but after we explain what happened-."

"No, he's gonna be pissed because we used up another TAD." He ducked and winced as Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head. "Thanks, Boss."

"I should come with you," said in a rush and felt a twinge of embarrassment, which she quickly tried to hide. "I have a bag in the trunk of my car, and—"

"Not a problem. Go home and get some rest, Tony, and I'll call you when it's time to pick up Bowen."

"Do I have to, Boss? Of course I do. See you later." He paused, and then surprised Ziva with a brief hug. "I'm glad you're OK, Ziva. Don't want to lose another partner," he whispered before letting her go.

She held onto him for a brief moment to respond. "You won't."

Tony stepped back and gave her a brief smile before walking over to his car. "See you later, Boss."

Gibbs just nodded as Tony climbed into the vehicle and drove off. He gently took Ziva by the arm and led her into the house. Once inside, he locked the door and turned to her.

"Tell me. What happened after you crashed?"

"I called for help."

"And?"

"I saw, at least I _think_ I saw what Bowen swerved to avoid. It… it came up to the window and… looked at me."

"Looked at you?"

"I think… it _recognized_ me."

"Ziva…"

"I know what I saw, Gibbs. I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it…_him_ with my own eyes."

"Him? It was a person?"

"No. It was…" She finally managed to meet his worried gaze and took a deep breath. "It was a werewolf."

Gibbs drew back, turned, and swore. He reached for his cell phone, opened it, and pressed a number. "I need to talk to you. NOW!" He snapped the phone shut and turned back to Ziva who was staring at him with wide, worried eyes.

"Gibbs, what…who did you just call?"

Gibbs sighed. "Wade."

"Wade? That is the man who… rescued McGee. When that monster abducted him."

"Yeah."

"Then why…?" A horrified look crossed her face as suddenly the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. "No…"

"Ziva…"

"What in the hell is going on, Gibbs? Where is…where is McGee? Where is he _really_?"

Gibbs guided her to the kitchen and pulled out a chair from the table before he went to the cabinet where he grabbed a couple of mugs and a bottle of bourbon. He poured a hefty portion into each mug, placing one on the table in front of her one as she slowly sank into the chair and sent him a questioning look.

"Trust me. You're gonna need it."

XXX

The sun was just above the trees when Wade returned to the mine. He grabbed a bag of the things he thought, _hoped_ he'd need and hurried to the pit. When he reached it he looked down and breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw the pale figure curled up at the bottom. He quickly climbed into the bucket and started the descent. A couple of minutes later he reached his destination and climbed out, carefully moving over to the figure and crouching down next to it.

"Tim?"

The man didn't even turn his head but continued to stare off into space. Wade opened his bag and pulled out a heavy blanket which he draped over the trembling man. He waited a moment and tried again.

"Tim? Talk to me."

"How's… Grey?" Tim's voice was so soft Wade almost didn't hear it, but he felt a brief surge of hope when he registered the nature of the response.

"He's fine. Says he has a hard head."

"Tell him… sorry… about the… truck."

"Oh, you mean the truck that someone stole and crashed? Local cops found it. Couldn't retrieve any evidence though, from what I heard. Punks torched the thing. Good thing Grey's insurance covers theft and vandalism, right?" Wade tried to keep his tone light but he could tell the intent behind his gesture was not having the desired effect.

"My account… money… both of you… can split it."

"Tim…"

Finally Tim turned to look at him and Wade felt his stomach clench. The resignation in those eyes nearly broke his heart.

"Just… make it quick."

"Make what quick, Tim?"

Tim sighed. "I'm a monster. You do…what you usually do… to monsters. Please."

"No." Wade saw a flash of anger in the young man's eyes and took heart in it. The kid was not completely broken yet, even if he believed he was.

"Why not? You could… get back to your life. No need… to worry about me… ever again."

"Right now saving you _is_ my life, Tim. What do you think I've been doing for the past six months?" Wade allowed his frustration to show, just a little. He knew he was walking a fine line but he decided the gamble just might work this time.

The look of hopelessness returned. "Sorry you wasted it."

"I haven't wasted it, Tim."

"But I… I got out. I… saw people. I saw…" A soft sob escaped his throat. "I saw a _friend_. If I… if I _killed—_."

"You didn't. You didn't hurt anyone. Enough of _you_ was still in there to stop it. Believe me, I checked. The cure will still work."

Tim raised his head and looked around. "I… I remember fighting. I got myself back here, and… I really didn't hurt anyone?"

"Well I think you probably did a number on yourself when you did your little free-fall."

"My legs… hurt." Wade pulled back the blanket and cringed. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah." The lower halves of Tim's legs were crooked. Wade was surprised they hadn't healed as expected, but he supposed it was the result of the regime they had kept the kid on since they started. He felt a brief wave of nausea as he imagined what the past few hours had been like for the kid.

"They're going to need to be re-broken and fixed. We can't exactly take you to a hospital, either, but I know someone…"

"Another favor?"

Wade managed a weak chuckle. "Yeah."

"Might be… easier to just-"

"_No_, Tim. Not when we're this close."

"Close?"

"I think I found it, Kid. The last living member of the bloodline."

"You _think_?"

"Pretty damn sure, Tim."

The young man stared at him, and Wade was relieved to see a brief glimmer of hope stir in those green eyes.

"What if it's not?"

"Then I'll keep looking. I'm not giving up, and I'll be damned if I let you give up, either. Are we clear?" He saw the uncertainty in the kid's eyes and tried one more gambit. "You've got a whole bunch of people pulling for you Tim. Don't let them down."

Finally, Tim nodded.

"Good, now let's get you out of here." Wade carefully tucked the blanket around him and lifted Tim in his arms, grimacing as he was reminded of the toll all of this had taken on the young man. He carried Tim to the bucket and carefully lowered him into so as not to jar his damaged limbs.

"Wade?"

"Yeah, Kid?"

"Thank you."

Wade grinned. "Don't mention it." His grin faded and was replaced with a sincere expression that would have shocked many of the people that he had met over the years. "We're going to beat this, Tim, no matter how long it takes. Don't give up hope. Not now, and not ever." He saw a faint smile appear on the younger man's face before he closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Gibbs sat at his kitchen table, a mug of strong black coffee in his hand and his gun on the table in front of him. It had been three weeks since the accident, three weeks since his call to Wade, and he had never received a response. He had called the man repeatedly, and had almost been tempted to ask Abby to trace the number that was now number one on his call list, but he had resisted. He had already had to explain the situation to one team member, and he knew she could keep a secret, but he knew that Abby would not. He and Ziva had discussed their options and had decided to enforce Rule Number Four. He knew that while Tony probably could handle it, the senior agent did not need anything else on his mind. The last report from Tim's 'doctor' that he had suffered a 'setback' had cast a pall of gloom over the team that has yet to dissipate, and Tony seemed to be affect most of all. Gibbs could tell that he was still carrying around too much guilt, too much anger, and to inform him of the truth would be more than the man could bear.

The soft scrape of a boot against wood was the only warning Gibbs had of the intruder before he spun around, gun in hand and pointing directly at the man who appeared in the doorway.

"Still not locking your door, I see." The man glanced at the weapon. "And those things still make me jumpy."

"I don't really care."

"Maybe I should invest in some Kevlar, then," he said and moved to the other side of the table. "Got your call."

"_Calls_. Which you never returned. Where in the hell have you been?"

"Busy."

"Yeah, I got that. What the hell has been going on?"

"You've been given the updates."

Gibbs slammed his first on the table. "Yeah, Tim had a 'setback'. I think it was a hell of a lot more than that."

Wade sighed. "Your other agent told you what she saw."

"What _did_ she see, Wade? You were supposed to prevent that from happening!"

The older man looked down at the table as he received a dressing-down from the furious lead agent.

"You were supposed to protect him, and you failed. You were supposed to keep him contained when this…change happened, and you _FAILED!"_

"But Tim didn't."

Wade's quiet statement momentarily derailed Gibbs anger and he paused before asking a questiom.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't fail. With a little help from your other agent, he was able to stop himself: he _contained_ himself so he wouldn't harm anyone."

Gibbs stared at the man in shock. "How?"

"I don't think you want to know. All I can tell you is he's been recovering from it for the past three weeks. After another week he'll be healed, and if all goes according to plan, in another month after that, it will be over."

Gibbs' eyes widened. "Over?"

"The cure will be completed. Tim will finally be free."

The faintest twinges of hope started to stir in Gibbs' mind. "Why not sooner?"

Wade let out a humorless chuckle. "Because irony is a bitch. Tim _needs_ one more partial transformation so he can heal. It will happen a lot faster in that state than in his normal one. I also had to make sure that I had found the last…step in the cure, and I have. Confirmed it a week ago."

"So he's going to be OK? _Finally_ OK?"

"If all goes well, he will be cured. 'OK' is probably stretching it, but he'll get there, in time." Wade tilted his head and studied Gibbs. "So am I forgiven?"

"No."

"Fair enough. I better get going. Lots to do, and I don't want anything to go wrong. It shouldn't have before, I know, but bad luck is a bitch, too. Hits when you least expect it."

"Tell me about it."

Wade stood. "I'll let you know how it went as soon as I can. Goodbye, Agent Gibbs." Without a backward glance he turned and walked out the door.

Gibbs sat silently, going over what the man had told him in his mind. Finally he pulled out his cell phone and called the only other person who knew Tim's secret.

XXX

Tim checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time and groaned. Wade had left the previous night to complete the final step in his mission and he had promised to contact them as soon as it was over, but the cell phone resting in the middle of Grey's kitchen table had remained silent. Tim paced back and forth, aware of the growing ache in his recently healed legs, but he had to have some way of calming his nerves. He had spent the weeks prior to the full moon in a drugged haze, courtesy of another of Wade's associates, and once the change had taken place, for what Tim sincerely hoped was the last time, he had been coherent and mobile again. He had tried to apologize to Grey for what had happened during the previous month's full moon but the habitually silent man had simply waved it off. Now Grey was watching him with the same unreadable expression he always wore as Tim covered the distance between the two walls yet again. Before all of this had begun, Tim would have filled the silence with questions and complaints, but his months in Grey's company had encouraged him to adapt the man's reticence.

Another hour passed, and finally Tim flopped into one of the kitchen chairs and stared at the phone, wish he could will it to ring. It remained silent, and Tim turned to Grey.

"Think he's OK?" he asked, unconsciously duplicating the other man's pattern of speech.

Grey just shrugged, a gesture Tim interpreted as 'wait and see'.

After nearly three more hours, just as Tim was starting to doze off, they heard the tell-tale creek of the back door as it opened, and Tim looked up to see Wade stagger through, bruised and battered. Tim immediately moved out of his chair and helped Wade settle into the vacated space.

"You OK?"

Wade chuckled softly. "Yeah, I think so. That one was a little tougher than I thought, but…yeah, I got him."

"He didn't get you, did he?"

"No, Kid. You don't have to worry on that score at least. It's done."

"So now?"

"Now we wait. Two more weeks, and you'll have an answer. Think you can make it?"

"Yeah. I can."

"Good boy. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a good hot shower and a week's worth of sleep." Wade stumbled up the stairs and out of sight.

"Do you think it's really over?"

Grey shrugged and headed up the stairs himself, but before he disappeared Tim thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile on the man's face.

XXX

Tim watched as the bottom of the mine shaft approached and clenched his teeth to keep from showing his nervousness. The hour of truth was approaching, and Tim was not sure, despite his claims, that he would be able to handle it if the cure hadn't worked. He had spent the past two weeks thinking about his options if that were indeed the case. Wade had assured him that if it hadn't worked, they would still keep looking. Granted, the later searches had been more difficult to complete due to the age of the information they were trying to uncover, but the older man remained optimistic. Tim's supply of hope was running thin, but he remembered the promises he had made and decided that he was still not ready to fail his friends and family.

Metal clunked against stone as the bucket came to a rest and the three men climbed out. Tim automatically walked over to the wall where he sat down and waited for Grey to complete the now sadly familiar routine. After he was bound and secured to the wall, Tim waited for the last part of his bindings to appear and when Wade pulled the blindfold from his pocket, Tim shook his head.

"Not this time."

"OK, Kid." He stuck the cloth back in his pocket and placed one hand on Tim's cheek, just as he had done the first time Tim had been left in this place. "Good luck."

Tim nodded and watched as the two men climbed back into the bucket and slowly brought it to the surface. He saw Wade give him one final thumbs up before he disappeared from sight and Tim leaned his head back against the stone to wait.

Soon the light above faded and as the darkness enveloped him, Tim waited to feel that awful burning that marked the onset of the change. It didn't come. Tim took a deep breath and continued to wait, expecting the sensation to overtake him at any moment, but still he felt nothing. He began to wonder if this was all a dream, that he would wake up and discover that nothing had changed, that the creature inside him still lurked, waiting to be released on the night the moon was at her brightest. An eternity passed, and suddenly he noticed a pale object peeking over the edge darker edge of the pit as it started to cross the sky above. As he watched, the disc-shaped object moved fully into his line of sight and as he saw the formations on its surface, images he had first seen and marveled over as a child, he finally found that he was able to smile. The pale light reflected from above shined down into the shaft of darkness and illuminated the tears of joy that slowly tracked down his upturned face.

XXX

Tony checked his watch, rose from his desk and headed to Autopsy. It was time for their weekly updates, an event that had, in turn, brought worry, hope, and heartache to the members of the MCRT. The last few reports, following the devastating news that their friend was still in danger had been slightly more encouraging. However, Tony was afraid that the tide could always turn and they would lose one of their own for good.

When he arrived he saw that everyone else was already there. Abby and Palmer were standing off to Ducky's right, Abby wringing her hands in anticipation and worry, while Palmer tried to adapt his mentor's normally calm expression, an attempt that failed miserably. Gibbs and Ziva were standing further away and shoulder to shoulder, and Ziva was leaning slightly against Gibbs, as if the former Mossad officer was drawing strength from her own mentor. Tony joined the group and waited for Ducky to end his call. Finally the M.E. bid the person on the other end farewell and placed the headset back on its cradle before he turned to face the group with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Well, Ducky? What did he say?" Abby was practically vibrating with anticipation and worry.

Ducky's face broke into a broad grin. "The latest tests showed no sign of the disease. It is finally in remission, and Timothy is well on his way to recovery."

A loud whoop broke the silence, and Tony barely realized it had come from him. He was soon joined in his expression of joy by both Abby and Palmer, with the former also jumping up and down in her excitement and the latter offering his hand to Tony for a high-five, which Tony gladly reciprocated. Abby bounced over to hug Ducky and Tony turned to Gibbs and Ziva, surprised to find them still standing silently amidst the chaos.

"Boss, Ziva, are you OK?"

Ziva gave him a shaky smile before answering. "Yes…I believe I am."

Gibbs just nodded at first, and then the brightest smile that Tony had ever seen appeared on his Boss' face. Tony couldn't help but grin in return.

"I think this calls for a celebration!"

"It's not the end of the work day, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, his smile disappearing from his face but not his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Jethro. I believe we can make an exception, just this once," Ducky replied as Abby detached herself from him and ran to Gibbs, enveloping the lead agent in one of her trademark hugs. He returned it and rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Duck. I better inform the director." The happy group left Autopsy together, but Tony paused at the doorway and spoke to the empty room.

"Knew you could do it, Probie," he said softly before joining the rest of his team.

XXX

Tim gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, waiting for the residual shakiness to pass before he slowly made his way to the bathroom. He took care of the necessities and paused when he noticed that the mirror he had asked Grey to remove months ago had been returned. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before he stepped in front of it. He opened his eyes and stared in shock as, for the first time since his first transformation, he took in his own reflection.

It was like looking at a stranger.

Tim slowly raised his hand to his face, hesitantly touching the grizzly beard that adorned his cheeks. He traced the new lines etched at the corners of his eyes, and then took in the image of the eyes themselves. The color was…different. Paler, washed out, even. His gaze traveled upward toward his shaggy and disheveled hair and saw that the formerly brown locks were heavily streaked with grey. His face was pale and thin, with the skin stretched over his cheekbones. It looked as if he had aged twenty years in the seven moths since he had last taken a good look at his appearance. Silently he reached into his kit and removed his razor. After he had removed the facial hair, and used a comb to tame the tangle of hair on his head, he took another good look and sighed. How much of his outward change reflected the difference inside. Was he the same person? Could he ever return to his old life, or was the change a sign that he would never be able to fit in again, that he would have to move on?

When no answers became apparent, he left the bathroom and headed down to the kitchen. Wade was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in one had and the local newspaper in the other. The older man glanced up and his eyes widened slightly as he took in Tim's appearance.

"Hey, Tim. Looks like we need to get you to a barber. Should probably try to put a little meat on your bones, too. Gibbs will kill me for real if he sees you like this."

Tim slowly moved to the chair across from Wade and sat down before placing his folded hands on the table and staring at them. It was several moments before he spoke.

"I don't know…I don't think I can go back, Wade. I don't think I can be the way I was before. I'm not…I'm not the same person anymore."

Wade sighed and Tim looked up to meet his gaze.

"Tim, what you went through…nobody expects you to just shake it off. But you can go back, if you really want to."

"I don't know about that. I just…I feel like I've seen too much, known too much about…about what's out there in the dark."

"Trust me, Kid, you haven't."

"So if there are worse things out there…" Wade nodded. "Then maybe…maybe I'd be better off trying to do something about it."

Wade just stared at him, obviously surprised by what Tim had implied. "You're trying to tell me that you want to do what I do?"

"Maybe."

"I think you need to think about this a little bit more, Kid. You have friends and family waiting for you. Don't you want to see them again?"

"Yeah, I do, it's just… I'd rather know that they were safe. That I could help keep them safe."

"None of us can keep everyone safe, Tim. It's just a fact of our existence."

"I know that. My old job taught me that, but… I should try to protect them as best I can. I owe them that."

Wade sighed. "We'll talk about this later. _If_ you decide that this is really what you want to do…_after_ you're better informed as to what that actually entails, then I'll support that decision. Until then, you need to focus on getting your strength back. OK?"

"OK. Wade?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Wade grinned. "My pleasure, Tim." He walked over to the sink to rise out his coffee cup and then put it in the dishwasher before walking back over to Tim. Wade ruffled the younger man's hair before leaning down and whispering "haircut, pronto" and heading for the back door. Once he was gone, Tim allowed his forehead to come to rest on the table. He thought about what Wade had said and wondered if he really could do the job that had taken over the older man's life.

Tim was pulled from his reverie by the sound of something hitting the table. He raised his head and saw a cup of coffee had been placed in front of him, along with the usual additions he used to make the brew palatable. Tim turned, expecting to see Grey in his usual place at the stove and with his back turned towards him, but to his surprise the man walked over and sat down at the table a mug of his own. Tim knew by the smell that it was tea, and he watched as the other man took a sip of his beverage before setting the mug on the table. After a few moments of expected silence, Grey looked up and met Tim's gaze.

"It's not the right job for you, Tim."

Tim sat up, startled. Grey had never addressed him by name before.

"What?"

"What Wade does: it's not the right job for you."

Tim was a little taken aback at the man's directness, especially since he had never seemed to take much interest in Tim before except as a patient.

"Why do you say that?"

"Wade is a killer. All the people like him, who do the job he does, are killers. You're not."

"I've killed before. On the job."

"Not by choice, I imagine."

The fact that Grey was talking, actually _talking_ to him instead of barking commands or offering terse comments was finally starting to sink in.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm trying to save you."

"But…you already did. I couldn't have made it through all of these months without your help." Tim felt a rush of guilt. "I'm sorry I never properly thanked you before."

Grey stared at him for a few moments and Tim wondered if he has said something to offend the man, but soon he started to speak.

"About five years ago, Marna's boy, Jacob, was attacked by a Were and survived. Marna saw what happened but she couldn't do anything to stop it. She had heard—small town gossip, you know—that I had an interest in 'the supernatural' and she came to me looking for help."

"What happened?"

"I told her about the treatment, and that I'd look into the cure. I contacted someone—Carter from Elkton—about tracking down the Were that had attacked Jacob, and I started treating the boy. He made it through the first transformation, and his mother begged me to let him recover at home. As soon as he was strong enough, he ran away. We searched everywhere for him, but the kid had practically grown up in the woods and knew the best places to hide, as well as how to survive out there. We didn't find him before the next full moon, and…that night two little girls were killed a couple of towns over. They were just ripped apart. A man passing through caught wind of the situation and he tracked the kid down. Killed him." Grey paused to take a deep breath. "That man was Wade."

"Oh, God…"

"Jacob was a pretty good kid, but…he just didn't have it in him to fight the instinct. If someone can't fight it, or if they don't want to accept help…nothing I can do will fix that. _You_ fought it. You're just as much to thank as I am for lasting long enough to be cured."

"Does Marna know…?"

"She knew what happened to you. She didn't know about Wade. I figured she didn't need to know that. When I heard you were coming, I told her. She…I guess she saw an opportunity to help do what she couldn't for her own son. She made you that bread which had the nutritional ingredients you needed to keep your body going while you kept fighting. You gave her a chance to feel useful again. You _helped_ her."

"She's not angry that I survived and her son didn't?"

"No. Marna's not built that way. It's a rare thing indeed."

"So why did you agree to help Wade if he—"

"He was doing his job. Just like all the others who know about the monsters and see the only way of keeping people safe is to eliminate them. I understand that. But understand this: if things had gone wrong for you…to them, you would have just been another target. Even Wade would have seen the inevitable and would have taken matters into his own hands, no matter what he says. It's who he is. Now, after being on the other side of the fence, and _being_ what they might hunt, do you really think you could do that job?"

Tim felt a slow sinking sensation in his stomach: uncertainty. Could he really kill what he _could_ have been if things had gone differently?

"I just…I want to help people."

"You do help them, Tim. You helped Marna. You helped me. You even helped Wade. The man has carried guilt around for years, for the people he couldn't save, and helping you has relieved just a little of the burden. I know you think it's your job now to protect everyone because of what you have learned and experienced, but trust me, there are plenty of others who fill that role. You need to go where you fit."

"But I don't think I can fit there anymore."

"Why not?"

"I've just…"

"Seen the darkness. I understand. But you'll find some way of dealing with it. Some way that suits you, that uses your skills and talents. You have been through Hell, but there are ways of coming to terms with that, and maybe help a few people in the process." He leaned forward and gave Tim the very first real smile he had seen from the man since they'd met. "Take it from someone who _knows_."

Suddenly everything clicked. "You…you're the one. The only other person who's survived the cure." Grey nodded. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Not something I wanted getting around. Some people just wouldn't have trusted me."

"Do you think…the people that know about me: will they ever trust me again?"

Grey sighed. "That's your call to make. You know them better than I do. Do you trust _them?_"

"With my life," Tim said without a moment's hesitation and then paused. "I hope they feel the same way."

"Only one way to find out. In the meantime, you need to recover. It's going to take time but eventually, you will be able to go back. If that is what you really want."

Tim considered what Grey had said, _everything_ he had said. Could he really go back? Could he help people as much as possible in his old job? Was that really where he belonged now, or would those who knew his secrets shun him?

Tim didn't notice Grey leave as he sat in silence and continued to process everything the two of them has just discussed. Eventually he rose from the table and headed into the living room where he let his eyes wander across the familiar sites that had been a welcome constant in the turmoil he had faced over the past seven months. How was he going to deal with everything that had happened, and still provide some assistance to those who needed it? Did he have any hope in carrying on?

Finally his gaze landed on one particular object, so similar to something he owned but was packed away in storage somewhere, and he knew what he had to do.

TBC…

* * *

The Epilogue will be posted tomorrow.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

Tony stepped off the elevator, his enthusiasm for the day that lay ahead less than it had been even in recent months. It had been over ten months since he had really looked forward to work, and he knew that it boiled down to with whom he would be sharing his duties. McGee had been gone for that length of time, and neither Tony nor the rest of the team had any idea as to when, or if, he would ever return. The last report they had received from Ducky on Tim's status had been over two months ago, when the doctor at the clinic said Tim was undergoing rehabilitation. Soon after they had received a postcard from Tim, telling them he was working on getting better, but had needed a break from everything that had happened to him and he would let them know when he would be returning to D.C. A call to his parents revealed that they had received a similar message, and while they were worried, they trusted him to do what was best.

Meanwhile, the most recent of their TADs, the woman who had taken Bowen's place while he was recovering, had received a position she had applied for in San Diego and had departed the previous Friday. As for Bowen, he had opted to transfer to the Providence, Rhode Island office, citing stress issues following his accident. Vance had informed the team that the newest replacement would be arriving the next week, and when Tony arrived, albeit unenthusiastically, he checked the bullpen for a new presence.

Tony noticed a head with short brown hair (dyed, he suspected) nearly hidden behind one of the large monitors on the desk adjacent to his own desk and groaned. He quickly strode to his desk to deposit his bag before turning to explain how things went in the MCRT to the newbie. Just as he turned to face the most recently assigned resident of the bullpen, the man himself looked up and met the senior agent's gaze with a smile.

"Hey, Tony."

Tony was about to correct the blatant breach of etiquette when he suddenly realized exactly who he was seeing. He froze, uncomprehending, as the man rose and held out his hand.

"Long time no see."

Tony's brain and mouth finally started to work in tandem and he managed to utter a single word.

"Probie?"

The smile grew wider. "That's me."

Tony's paralysis broke. _"PROBIE!"_ He lunged forward and caught the younger man in a crushing embrace. McGee raised his arms and returned the hug, although not as forcefully.

"Good to see you too, Tony."

Tony drew back to study his partner and his grin faltered. "Damn, Tim, what did they do to you at that place? You look like—"

"—Hell, yeah, I know. I've looked worse, though, believe me."

"Are you OK to be back? Really OK?"

"I'm getting there. Ducky cleared me for desk duty this morning, after very carefully reviewing my medical records. I've already re-certified on firearms, so as soon as I can pass the other requirements…I'll be back to full status."

Tony's grin returned and then he reached up and head-slapped the other agent. "That was for worrying us sick, Probie. Don't you _ever_ do that again. You hear me?"

"Trust me, Tony, there's no way in hell that I would ever want to go through that again."

"I don't think any of us would…so why didn't you talk to us about it, Tim?"

"It was…not something I could really talk about. To anyone. Not something I would want to, either."

"But we could have helped you through it."

"Believe it or not, you did. When I…when things got really bad, I was reminded that there were people who really wanted me back. I don't think I could have made it without that. Thank you."

"Anytime, Tim. Now what—

"_McGee?"_

Both men turned to find Ziva staring at them, her eyes wide with shock.

"Look who's back, Ziva!" Tony glanced at his partner and noticed an odd expression on his face, which he quickly tried to hide behind a smile.

"Hi, Ziva. How…how have you been?"

Suddenly she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "I am…_so_ happy to see you again, McGee. I have missed you."

"I missed you too, Ziva." McGee closed his eyes and gently put his arms around her. "More than you could ever know. Thank you."

They separated and Tony saw the awkwardness with which they glanced at each other. He decided he'd have to get that story later, from one of them at least.

"Come on, I should take you down to see Abby. Don't worry, I'll run interference. And by the way…" He gave Tim another headslap. "That's for not calling and telling us you were coming back to work. Abby's going to have a fit."

"Sorry. I really wasn't sure if I would be back. It's taken a lot longer than I expected to adjust."

"Do not tease him, Tony. I'm sure he did the best he could."

"Do your parents know you're back?"

"Yeah, I called them. Mom fussed and Dad…he had quite a few colorful phrases to describe what he'd do if I ever worried them like that again."

"I can imagine. Are they OK with you coming back to work?"

Tim nodded. "It's where I'm supposed to be."

They headed for the elevator and when they pressed the button the doors opened to reveal Gibbs, coffee in hand. He started to step out and stopped when he caught sight of the trio, his eyes widening almost comically.

"Hey, Boss," Tim and Tony said in unison, and Ziva snorted softly at their perfect timing.

"McGee? What in the…?" He pulled the three of them into the elevator and almost as soon as the doors closed he flipped the switch.

"Where in the hell have you been?"

McGee dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry, Boss, I—"

"Would have been nice to know you were coming back, McGee."

"Yes, Boss."

Suddenly Gibbs smirked. "Been too damn long since I heard that from you, Tim. Welcome back."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Gonna have a word with Leon about this, though. I don't like surprises."

"Understood."

They rode down to the lab and when they stepped through the doors, Tony knew immediately that Abby's mood was not promising. Tim surprised him, however, by making the first comment.

"It's kinda quiet in here."

"Timmy?"

Suddenly the sound of platform shoes hitting tile echoed through the lab as the Goth barreled towards them and flung herself into McGee's arms.

"_TIMMY!"_

Tony and Gibbs barely managed to keep McGee from tipping over backwards.

"This seems familiar somehow," he muttered with a slight grin and Tony gave him another headslap.

Abby pulled back and took a good look at him.

"Oh, my God, Timmy! What happened to you? Where have you been? Why didn't you tell us you were coming back?" She gave him a semi-gently punch in the arm. "Why _didn't_ you tell us?"

"Uh… Surprise?"

She grinned at his response and hugged him again.

"God I've missed you. It hasn't been the same. Vance kept sending TADs but they never stuck around and none of them were even close to your level and this one was really _really_ annoying, he wrecked one of the sedans if you can believe that, and—"

"Abby! Take a breath," said Gibbs as he watched the excited woman with and indulgent smile on his face. "And give McGee some time to breathe, too."

"Sorry, Gibbs, I'm just… I'm so glad to see him and…" She took another look at Tim. "You're so _skinny_! Didn't they feed you at all?"

"Did feel much like eating, Abbs."

"But you're better, right? Don't worry, we'll get you back to normal in no time, and-."

"OK, Abby. OK." Tim turned to the rest of the group and Tony noticed a slight tremble of his chin as he spoke. "I'm really glad to see all of you again. There were times when…I didn't think I would and when that happened, I… all I had to hope for was this. Us, together as a team. So thank you, _all_ of you, for that. I can't ever tell you how much that meant to me." He caught Gibbs gaze and the lead agent smiled and nodded in understanding. "I'm glad I'm back where I belong."

"So are we, Tim," said Gibbs as he glanced at Ziva, who nodded. "So are we."

XXX

The team entered the lab to find Abby at her desk, feet up, with a book opened in front of her.

"Ready to go, Abbs?"

"She looked up at them with a puzzled expression and lowered the book. "Go where?"

"Out to celebrate. McGee managed to make it through and entire year without anything awful happening to him." The younger man just rolled his eyes and Tony grinned. "You coming?"

"Can you guys wait just a few more minutes? I really want to finish this chapter. It's just getting to the really good part."

"What is it about?" asked Ziva.

"A guy, a normal, kind of boring guy, gets attacked. He finds out what attacked him is, get this, a werewolf."

Ziva turned to stare at McGee, who managed to maintain his neutral expression. Barely.

"So he becomes a werewolf, then?" asked Tony.

"That's just it: he doesn't, not really. You see, he finds out that there's a cure, a series of magic spells, and he tries to find them. He has a couple people that help him along the way, and the whole time he's dealing with fighting the monster inside of him. It's intense. He has two friends that keep him locked up during the full moon, but one night he gets out, and that's really bad, you see, because if he kills anyone the cure won't work anymore. He runs into this woman he knows, a really good friend who doesn't know what happened, and when he sees her the human part of him is able to take over and he doesn't hurt her, or anyone else that night. He's still safe."

"So does he get cured?"

"That's the part I'm reading now."

"Sounds…interesting," said Ziva and she turned to her other side to stare at Gibbs who wore a look of amusement on his face.

"Doesn't sound all that exciting to me, Abbs."

"Oh, but it is. The critics called it '_a wonderful allegory on the tragedy of addiction and battling the monster within_'. And you know the best part about this book? All of the proceeds from the sale of the book are being donated to charity."

"What's it called? I might have to buy a copy, you know, since I'm such a humanitarian." She showed Tony the title page and he chuckled. "'_Hope in the Darkness'_, by Greg Wayne. Sounds great, Abbs. Maybe we'll stop by a bookstore and pick up a copy."

"OK. I'll meet you downstairs in a few, guys."

The team headed for the lobby, with Tony and Ziva both opting to make a pit stop. When they were alone, Gibbs turned to McGee with a bemused expression and Tim blushed.

"Boss, I'm sorry, I…know that probably wasn't the best way to handle everything, but…"

Gibbs just smirked and clapped Tim on the shoulder.

"Never change, McGee. Never change."

Tim let out a sigh of relief and grinned.

"Trust me, Boss, I've had enough change to last a lifetime."

The End.

* * *

Rather an odd ending for me, I know, but it's what the muse wanted me to write.

Thanks to those of you who stuck with this story (and series) to the end. I will be finishing up _Point of a Needle, Head of a Pin_ and then I will get back to my other WIPs. Vote in my poll for which ones you'd like to see updated sooner than later.


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